


A Ring of Emerald

by OpalSpirit



Series: Folktales AU [4]
Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale), Loki - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abusive step-family, Angst, Archery, Dancing, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Family Feels, Family Member Death, Genderswap Cinderella, Horseback Riding, Inspired by Cinderella, Lies, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Power Couple, Presumed Dead, Reader Is Badass, Revenge, Seidr, Slow Burn, Step-siblings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, archery competitions, balls, fairy godmother - Freeform, masquerade balls, suspicious family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 80,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: "It's just that," she said, eyes going distant and her smile trembled at the edges. "You remind me of someone who was very dear to me."A single, solitary tear escaped her eye and traced a shining path down her cheek. He felt his hand twitch, itching to swipe it away and lay a hand against her cheek. A gesture so familiar, but now forbidden. He simply watched her, illuminated by the early afternoon sun. What little he saw of her, he cherished."Your eyes are like his too," she murmured, unaware of the raw and unadulterated adoration in his eyes as he drank in her image, her being. "Like the finest emerald. The colour of new leaves in the Spring.""I am unworthy of such compliments," he said in reply. "But I thank Your Highness for her kind words."Her smile was sad as she regarded him, head bowed in dutiful submission. Reaching out, she gently tipped his chin up, their eyes meeting. It seemed for a moment as though she wanted to say something more, but soon thought better of it. "I shan't keep you from your duties," she said softly and stepped back."Your Highness," he said, bowing. Only once her footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, did he look up. "My love," he whispered.
Relationships: Loki/Reader, Odin/Frigga
Series: Folktales AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799605
Comments: 84
Kudos: 263





	1. Introductions

_His mother was of the unconventional sort. She took after her father in more ways than one, the most prominent of these? She too was a merchant and traveled often. In so doing, she left the estate in his care. Her only and most beloved son. Since his father's death, she had raised him by herself and had refused many offers of marriage._

_The estate was large, bordered on one side by a lake that was overhung with willows. The servants and staff knew his mother's ways well and accepted the care of the young master. Many had grown up with him and were overjoyed to see him given such a responsibility._

_Whenever his mother returned from a journey, they would often go to court. Their family was well known and respected among the ranks of nobility. His mother was known to gift the Queen a number of her more exotic and unique items from her travels._

_That was when he met her. The only child of Odin Allfather and his Queen. The Princess was as fair as her mother and exuded more grace than any of the noble ladies could ever hope for. They had stumbled upon each other's company in the royal library. The Princess had tucked herself away from the public eye for the afternoon and opted instead for the company of the towering bookshelves and the countless volumes they held._

_He had been to the palace many times but never beyond the throne room. The Queen had kindly urged him to explore the palace while she spoke with his mother._

_His entrance did not go unnoticed by the young royal. Looking up from her book, she saw a young man stand at the library entrance, eyes wide with wonder as he beheld the sight before him._

_For as long as she could remember, she had been the library's sole visitor. Not that she minded, it afforded her the peace and quiet that even her own chambers could not give her. Marking her place in the book with a golden ribbon, she set it aside and stood. Never one for crowds, she felt her nerves begin to rise at the prospect of meeting a man she had never seen before...alone. Still, she couldn't deny that she was curious. "Hello," she called softly, not wishing to disturb the library's peace._

_Her soft greeting startled him and she fought back a giggle at the surprise on his face. "Hello," he replied, matching her tone. "My lady."_

_She smiled sweetly, it was evident that he did not know who she was. "What brings you here, my lord?"_

_"My mother," he replied without an ounce of hesitation. "She is, at present, speaking with Her Majesty."_

_"I see," she murmured. "Have you come to the palace before?"_

_When he nodded, she smiled._

_"But you haven't seen the library?"_

_"No, my lady," he replied, eyes wandering over his surroundings._

_"Go on," she said softly, inviting him further in with a slight gesture of her hand. The sunlight from a nearby window caught on the collection of fine rings she wore, causing the gems to glitter and the metal to shine._

_Stepping back, she watched with a small smile as he approached the nearest shelf. He was handsome, that much was obvious. Ebony hair was secured with an emerald ribbon at the nape of his neck, a green that she soon found to be a theme in the rest of his attire. She watched as pale, elegant fingers gently swept over the spines of the books, touching them in a reverent manner._

_Settling back in her previous seat by the window, she reopened the book. The only indication that she had company was the soft padding of footsteps on the thick carpet as her guest explored the royal family's vast collection._

_Who was he? She did not know many young men who were drawn to the written word, not in the culture of brute strength like the Aesir. It surprised her greatly._

_The silence was broken by the opening of the library doors and the entrance of a maid. Casting a quick glance over the library, she smirked upon finding her mistress sitting by one of the many windows. Hurrying across the carpeted floors, she approached the Princess, who was doing a stellar job of pretending she didn't see her. The maid, Celeste by name, tapped the Princess on the shoulder. "Your Highness?" She whispered. "Your mother is looking for you."_

_Barely managing to suppress a groan, she continued to read. "Why?" She asked, eyes on the page._

_"Because there is someone she would like for you to meet," Celeste replied._

_"Please, not another suitor," the Princess muttered. "Can't you tell her that you couldn't find me?"_

_"Not if I wish to keep my position here," the maid protested. "Lying to the Queen is something I will not do, not even for you."_

_"And you call yourself my friend," she pouted, a smile threatening to break the illusion._

_"Yes," the maid replied and took hold of the Princess's wrist. "Now will you come with me, or will I have to pull you out?"_

_"Fine," she relented and set her book to the side before slipping off the window seat. "But there is something I must do first." Before Celeste had time to protest, she had slipped her grasp and disappeared among the shelves._

_Celeste groaned and ran a hand over her neatly braided dark brown hair. The Princess was even more trouble now than when she was a child._

_Finally she emerged from the forest of shelves and gestured to the doors. "Shall we? We do not want to keep her waiting."_

_The golden halls of the palace greeted the two women, one trailing slightly behind the other. Nodding politely to those she passed, the Princess forced a smile. She dreaded this summons by her mother, her mother who had been gently pushing for her to find a suitor._

_Her efforts were wasted on her daughter. Her daughter who wished to marry only when she found someone of her own volition._

_The moment they neared her mother's rooms, she lifted her chin and smoothed the fabric of her gown, a smile at the ready. When Celeste opened the doors for her, she took a deep breath and let it out, hoping for some measure of calm._

_"There she is," the warm voice of her mother announced. "Come here, darling."_

_The Queen stood in the centre of her sitting rooms, bathed in sunlight, her golden attire drinking in the light and making her glow. She reached out a hand to her daughter._

_Taking the offered hand, the Princess smiled at her mother. In truth, she loved the woman dearly, but simply wished to be left in peace when it came to matters of marriage. She knew that eventually, she would get married. Just not yet._

_"You wished to see me, mother?" She asked, canting her head to the side._

_"Indeed," her mother replied. "I am sure Celeste has told you of the nature of my summons?"_

_The Princess nodded, "yes. She has. Might I inquire as to who it is I am supposed to be meeting?"_

_The Queen chuckled and nodded. "Of course, though he does seem to be running a little bit late."_

_"I apologise, Your Majesty," said the lady that the Princess only now saw to be standing next to her mother. She was strikingly beautiful and had the most luminous green eyes ever seen. She seemed strangely familiar. "Your Highness," the woman said, nodding to the younger royal._

_The Queen smiled warmly at the woman. "It is no matter, Fárbauti, I am sure your son will be along soon." Turning to her daughter, she gestured toward the raven-haired lady. "My dear, this is Lady Fárbauti, her son, the Lord Loki, is the one you will be meeting."_

_The Princess mirrored her mother's smile. "A pleasure, my lady."_

_Not a moment later, the doors opened to admit another. The Princess felt her eyes widen in recognition. But before she could so much as form a single word, Fárbauti spoke up. "It is not like you to be behind time, dear boy," she scolded good naturedly._

_"I apologise, mother," he replied sincerely and smiled at her before turning to the Queen. Recognition sparked in his eyes when his gaze found her daughter. "I apologise for my tardiness, Your Majesty."_

_The Queen dismissed the words with a small wave. "It is quite alright, you are here now." Turning to the side, she introduced her daughter. "This is my daughter, Princess Y/N."_

_Y/N managed a shy smile and dropped into a curtsy. "My lord," she murmured._

_"It is an honour to meet you," Loki replied, taking one of her hands in his own and gently kissing her knuckles. His eyes never left her. "Your Highness."_


	2. Quiet Violence

The summer sun beat down mercilessly, uncaring of those that toiled beneath it. No breeze sprung up to save them from the heat.

The skin that was unfortunate enough to be exposed soon burned and reddened under the sun's glare. Not for the first time did Loki curse his short hair. The rough homespun of his tunic aggravated the skin and provided no relief. Shielding his eyes with his free hand, he looked into the distance and sighed with relief, the manor sat tall and proud on the horizon. He couldn't help the smile that came every time he saw it. A sense of pride filled him, something that not even _they_ could extinguish.

Adjusting his grip on the heavy sack he carried, he continued on his way. It was heavy enough to distract him from other thoughts. At least for the moment.

At long last he crossed the estate boundary. He knew that the moment his return was announced, a whole list of tasks would be graciously provided by the master of the house. Grimacing at the thought of the man, Loki entered the manor kitchens and was greeted by the kitchen staff.

"Did they have you carry that all the way from town?" The head cook asked as the kitchen hands swarmed around him, relieving him of his burden.

Loki nodded and smiled gratefully as one of the kitchen maids passed him a goblet of water.

"You had better go and get what rest you can," said the cook, her violet eyes sad. "They'll have you up and going as soon as they hear you're back."

"Thank you," he said as he passed, pausing to kiss her on the cheek. "Truly."

"They have you working harder than any of us here," she said and shook her head. "Disgraceful, the lot of them. Why do you not leave, young master?"

Loki smiled sadly and set the goblet down. "You know why," he replied softly. "I promised her that I would care for our home. I cannot go back on my word for the sake of my own comfort."

"They will work you to the bone and then some," the cook, Viola by name, protested. "Surely your dear mother would have something to say about that?"

The way he smiled at the mention of his late mother, made Viola's heart twist in sympathy for the young Lord. Lady Fárbauti's passing had been hard on all of them, but for no one more than her son. His perseverance came from her, Viola was sure of it. His silent strength and the determination to see his promise to her fulfilled.

"Go on to my room," she said after a moment of silence. At his hesitation, she pushed him gently in the direction of the servant's quarters. "Go before they see you."

"You will be chastised if I use your bed," he protested and shook his head. "I could not possibly be the cause of that."

 _Bless him, the sweet boy._ "You will be of no use to anyone in the state you are in now," she remarked. "You are using my preparation table as support to stand. Now go."

"If you insist," he said, smiling wearily.

"I do-"

"LOKI?!"

All those that were in the kitchen winced at the call. They cast sympathetic glances his way as he sighed, his shoulders dropping for a moment before he righted himself.

"LOKI!"

"Go," Viola whispered, reaching up and smoothing errant strands out of his eyes. "Go before he comes down himself."

"The mighty Thor stooping to enter the kitchens?" Loki asked, grinning. "I do not see that happening-"

"LOKI!"

"Hurry," Viola urged him, nudging him towards to the stairwell.

She watched as he nodded and made his way to the stairs and ascended them with all the grace of a Prince. Shaking her head, she returned to her task. They would, without a doubt, have him working now until midnight. It was not as though it had not happened before.

It was not difficult to trace where the yelling had come from. Sighing inwardly, Loki pushed open the double doors of the drawing room. Immediately, he looked down. Let them read what they wished into his actions.

"Took you long enough," his step-brother snapped. "Fetch my riding boots and ready my horse, I am needed at the palace."

Choosing to remain silent, he simply nodded and made to leave when the voice of another stopped him. "Not so fast, _little brother._ " The female voice was softer and deceptively gentle. "Do not always be so eager to leave, no matter what haste Thor might demand."

The pointed, manicured tip of a nail angled his chin up so his eyes met those of his step-sister, Hela. Her dark blue eyes sparkled with some hidden mischief that would cause her glee and his discomfort. His continued silence seemed to amuse her.

"Hela, this is no time for games," Thor said from his place by the cold hearth. "The Allfather has summoned me and I cannot keep him waiting."

"I suppose my request can wait," she murmured, letting her hand trail down to the band that surrounded both of his wrists. Her nails clicked softly against the metal as she watched him, his green eyes that were so like his mother's. They gave nothing away as he returned her gaze.

In a rare moment of rebellion, Loki stepped back and away from her. Without so much as a second glance, he left the room, closing the doors soundlessly behind him. It would be easy to find Thor's chambers, for they had once been his own. The furnishings had all been replaced of course.

His hands trembled lightly as he crossed the threshold to retrieve the boots.

The palace. He had not seen it or been there since his mother passed two years prior. He had not seen _her._ It was no secret that Hela despised the Princess. She was everything Hela wasn't. Loved by the people, kind and in possession of the biggest heart in the realm. Refined, graceful and most of all, in line for the throne.

"Y/N," he whispered, her image appearing in his mind's eye. It had been so long since he had said her name. Absently he wondered how much one could change in the span of two years.

Shaking his head, he reluctantly banished her image from his mind. It would not do to dwell on the past. She was undoubtedly surrounded by a hoard of friends or perhaps merely one or two. Had she overcome her dislike of crowds? Did she still retreat to the library at any given opportunity?

"Stop it," he hissed, the words directed toward himself. If only it were that easy. Thor's mention of the palace had opened a floodgate of questions that he had wrestled closed.

Marching from the room, he retraced his steps back to the drawing room and took a deep breath before entering. Hela was thankfully absent, where she had got to, he did not care to know, or ask.

"What in the Nine took you so long?" Thor grumbled as his boots were slid onto his feet and secured.

When Loki didn't answer, the older man simply huffed and stood. "Ready my horse."

The stables were cool despite the warm air flowing in through the twin openings. The doors had been flung open for the purpose of encouraging the flow of fresh air. If he was being honest with himself, Loki did not mind the stables. Thor and Hela's horses had been given the best stalls, while his own stallion languished in the smallest one in the back of the building. Forbidden from riding, he settled for spending what time he could with the poor beast.

Heaving over the preferred saddle and corresponding tack, he set about readying the chestnut mare. She was the opposite of her rider. Loki liked to think she calmed him, but then, there were very few who could tame Thor and his often rash decisions.

"It is a warm one today," he spoke softly to the horse. "So please be careful, Thor will throw a fit if you collapse beneath him."

As though in answer, the mare nickered and gently butted his arm, eliciting a chuckle from him. Pressing a kiss to her muzzle, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. His mother had always told him that no task was beneath him, even saddling and bridling one's own horse.

Thor's entrance was heralded by his loud, thumping footsteps and they had him scooting back into the shadows of the stable.

He watched in silence as Thor mounted and lead the mare from the stables before urging her into a gallop. Loki sighed. The poor thing would collapse from heat exhaustion, Asgardian summers were as brutal as the winters.

Shaking his head, he turned on his heels and made for the main house. Only to be intercepted by none other than Hela. "My turn," she said, smiling a little too sweetly. "Come _little brother_ , there is a task that I believe only you will be able to complete."

Her tone boded ill. As it always did. Yet he knew that to disobey would likely mean the lash and he was in no mood for that again. "Yes, sister," he replied softly.

"Excuse me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at the man before her.

There was a flicker of defiance in his eyes before it disappeared completely. "Yes, mistress," he corrected himself, hating every syllable.

"Better," she purred, satisfied. "Now, come along."


	3. To where you are...

Sighing, Celeste left the library. It was the rare occasion that the Princess was not to be found there. Not even the gardens bore traces of the Princess having been there.

Stepping into the courtyard, Celeste shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun, still no sign of her. Was she even in the Palace? All the guards and servants she had spoken to had denied seeing her. This only served to frustrate the maid more. Y/N did not handle the heat well, she dreaded to think if anything had happened to her.

"Alright, fine," she muttered, wiping at the thin sheen of perspiration that had beaded along her hairline. "The town it is."

The very streets radiated the heat of the sun and Celeste soon found herself wanting to head back to the Palace. Ducking into one of the numerous flower sellers, Celeste fanned herself. Where could Y/N possibly have gotten to?

"Celeste?"

Turning at the sound of her name, the maid came face to face with owner of the shop. "Yes?"

The woman smiled before speaking again. "What brings you here? Her Highness has already been."

Celeste raised an eyebrow at the woman's words. "She has?"

"Yes," the florist replied. "About an hour or so ago, before the heat of the day really set in."

The wheels in her mind began to turn. "Do you remember what flowers she purchased?"

"Indeed," the woman replied. "She selects the same ones every time. White lilies and green orchids."

Realisation slammed into her. She felt like a complete dolt for not realising what day it was. "I suppose I know where she is now," she muttered and murmured a quick thanks before darting back out into the scorching summer heat.

The temple lay nestled in a copse of trees, shielded completely from the sun and was not too far from the town. Taking a series of breaths to calm herself, Celeste approached the looming building. It was rather imposing and made her feel smaller than she already was. The stone doors were cool to the touch and made her sigh in momentary relief before she pulled them open.

The doors swung soundlessly open and closed just as quietly behind her. The temple was much cooler and was bathed in shade. Only the light of the numerous candles gave any light. The tall, vaulted ceiling arched high above her, framing with haunting perfection the woman that knelt beneath it.

Celeste felt her breath catch as her eyes landed on her mistress. The glow of the candles illuminated her, even more so when she stood and turned, the gold on her gown twinkling. Smiling and nodding to her maid, she swept past her and left the temple. Celeste looked back to where the Princess had been and saw the flowers. They rested against two marble pillars. Lilies for one, green orchids for the other.

Swallowing thickly, the maid turned and followed her mistress.

Y/N's gown blended beautifully with the green around her. The sheer fabric of her cape fluttered lightly in the warm breeze. "Come," she said, gesturing for Celeste to walk alongside. "You were looking for me?"

Celeste nodded. "I apologise, Your Highness. I did not remember what day it was."

"It is quite alright," she replied. "Let us go back."

The pair walked in silence, one that was broken by Celeste as they walked through the town. "How long has it been now?" She asked softly.

Y/N smiled bravely, but the maid saw the pain in those e/c eyes. "Two years and yet it feels like it was only yesterday that I went with mother and was told the news."

"I remember that day," Celeste murmured. "You had returned first and went straight to the library. By the time I found you, you had fallen asleep. I did not see it at first, but the book you were curled around...."

"It was his favourite," Y/N finished softly, her eyes distant and her smile sad. "I had given it to him after his second visit to the library."

Celeste watched her mistress as they continued to walk. It was not often they spoke of that day.

The sound of rapid hoofbeats brought both of them out of their thoughts. Celeste was forced to pull the Princess to the side as a rider with a flaming red cape tore through the markets, making for the Palace.

"How terribly rude," Celeste snapped, dusting off both herself and the Princess. "To not even care for where he was going," she huffed, shaking her head.

Y/N chuckled at her maid's behaviour. "He was most likely in a hurry," she said. "I am sure that he was not rude intentionally."

"If you say so," Celeste grumbled. "He ought to have at least called out an apology."

The walk back to the Palace was a mercifully short one. Both women breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the Palace's shade once more. "I believe a dip in the rock pools would do wonders," Y/N said, earning an enthusiastic nod from Celeste.

Passing through the halls, they also passed by the training grounds. It was a sight and a place that made Y/N's lips curl into a sneer. Especially since a certain General stood there, tall and hulking. The man's arrogance was known realm-wide and made the Princess's dislike for him only grow. His son, Thor was not much better. She had only met him twice and already that was too much.

It was his son that stood beside him now, overlooking the training grounds.

"Him!" Celeste hissed, eyes narrowing as she saw his red cloak. "The rider from the town. The one that almost ran us over."

Y/N followed her maid's gaze and sighed. She should have known. "Let's go," she said softly. "Let's go before they see us."

But it was already too late for that. General Njal Erikson had seen the flash of green and gold from across the grounds and turned his attention their way. He watched as the Princess turned away in a flurry of green and gold, her head held high.

"Thor," he said, calling his son's attention.

"Yes, father?"

"It would do well for you to befriend her," Njal replied, gaze following the young royal. "It would be a rather good match."

Thor followed to where his father was looking. "But isn't that who-?"

"The very same," Njal cut in. "Think of the connections, my boy. To have our name linked to the royal family by marriage..."

"His Majesty favours us already," Thor said, folding his arms. "I do not see why I would have to marry _her_ of all people."

"She is the Princess, Thor. The heir to this realm. The wealth she would bring to our family..."

Thor remained silent and watched the Princess's retreating form. The women he usually surrounded himself with were nothing like her. The colours she favoured rankled him and it was well known that she favoured those with strong intellect rather than physical strength. He had no use for someone who preferred books and words over more practical and useful activities. She was too quiet for his taste. Too soft.

Choosing not to reply to his father, Thor left his father's side and joined the training.

The General sighed as he watched his son. He could understand his reservations about courting a member of the royal family. It was a daunting prospect, but a necessary one.

"I saw him watching you," Celeste whispered to Y/N as they neared the rock pools beneath the Palace.

"Who?"

"The General and his son."

The Princess shuddered and curled her lips before shaking her head. "Let them look," she replied, winking. "For that is all they are permitted to do."

Celeste grinned and opened the doors that led to the enchanted pools below.

The rock pools were Y/N's favourite retreat, second only to the library. With a small gesture of her hand, she disrobed and the gown was hung neatly by the wall. Wasting no time, she stepped up to the edge of the nearest pool and dove in.

She did not resurface right away. She let the cool water surround her and wash the day's heat away. Seeing Thor and his father, mixed with what the day was, it was too much. It was an assault on her mind and still-recovering heart that she was not prepared for. She hung there, suspended in the cool water, her hair drifting around her. For the first time in two years, she let the tears come. She let them mix with the water.


	4. Roaming minds

To say that Hela was in possession of a large number of gowns, would be to understate things.

Every colour and every style, she had them all. Loki highly doubted she had worn even half of them. But if there was one thing he knew about his step-sister, it was that she absolutely always needed the latest and most new when it came to gowns and jewellery. She had seen fit to pilfer his mother's jewels and add them to her collection.

"Come along," she said, gesturing for him to hurry. "There is much work to be done."

His curiosity outweighed the dread that had been growing since the stables. His answer soon came as they entered her chambers, only to go on through to her wardrobe. It was a shock of colour that greeted him.

Hela turned and faced him with a smile that was much too sweet for his liking. "My gowns are many in number," she began, sweeping her arm in a gesture of explanation. "And as such, I have not had a chance to wear them all. That being said, there are those who sweep the ground better than a broom. I shall need those hems taken up."

He would have sighed with relief, at least he would be indoors.

"That, _little brother,_ " she said, stepping closer and lightly tracing his jaw with her sharpest nail. "Is what you will do. I have taken the trouble to set aside the gowns that require adjustment. But hear you me," here her voice dropped and became a whisper. Her nail pressed a little harder and he swore she broke skin. "If even one stitch is out of place, it'll be the worse for you."

Even long after she had departed, he stayed standing where he was. The gowns she had indicated were practically three quarters of the collection.

Setting about collecting needle and all the thread he could find, Loki settled himself in the centre of the room, the first gown draped across his legs. The fabric was delicate, almost gossamer in nature and much too fine and beautiful for a snake like Hela. The thread he had selected worked beautifully and blended seamlessly with the fabric. His mother's voice came to him as the needle entered and exited the material...

_"Handle the needle with the utmost care, for should you pull too harshly or stab too violently, the fabric will be damaged. Take care, Loki. In everything you do."_

Blinking away the tears that came with her memory, he focused on the task at hand. At the time, he had considered sewing a woman's art. His mother had soon shown him that the opposite was true.

_"As future Lord and Master of the estate, you must have knowledge and experience in every task, even those you may consider the most menial. As I have said before, no task is beneath you."_

It had been quite some time since he had last taken up a needle and thread. The tips of his fingers were soon reddened and became evidence to that.

The wardrobe bore no windows and Hela had closed the door after she had left. Had the sun reached its peak in the sky? Or had it begun its decent to the horizon? The ever present candles in the room aided him as he finished the first and as he hung it where it belonged.

The fabric of the second dress was a little tougher than the one previous. Though it was no less beautiful. A shimmering blue that would become silver if the light hit it right. It was rough to the touch and said to be most expensive.

This gown was a little longer than the first and would require a little more work.

He had only seen this fabric in one other place. The Palace and Y/N had worn a gown of it. A gown in the most beautiful shade of purple and when she spun, it was as though she was wearing the night sky. If he tried hard, he could see the scene play out before him and hear her speak with him. He had not heard her voice for two years. Two long years.

A sudden pain in his finger wrenched him from his memories. Looking down, he nearly laughed at seeing that he had stabbed himself with the needle. Thankfully no blood had been drawn, but the skin was still tender.

The next few gowns proved to be challenges as each time, a new memory sprung up. Either his mother or Y/N. It was the colours and sometimes the gown itself that brought those memories into sharp relief. Had this been Hela's plan all along? To torture him with memories of a life that he would never have again?

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. It would do no good to grant Hela the satisfaction she so desired.

When at last he made a start on the very last gown, he was sure night had fallen. From the sounds of it, Thor had not yet returned and must have been staying at the Palace with the General. Loki refused to acknowledge the man as his father. He had done so while his mother was alive, but not now. He had made many attempts after her passing, but each one was unsuccessful.

It was fortunate indeed for him, that the Allfather favoured the General. The man's absence from the estate was a blessing. Even if the manor was falling apart from his lack of care and attention and nothing could be said for his children. They cared even less than their father.

Loki was fighting a yawn by the time he finished the hem on the last gown. Made of a fabric that appeared to be spun from gold itself. In truth, it was a beautiful garment, a work of art. It was his mother's. Yet another thing Hela had taken. It was as though she had wanted to make Fárbauti disappear completely.

His hands were shaking from weariness as he placed the gown back where it belonged.

Peaking through the gap Hela had left, he saw that she had not yet returned to her room. Carrying the supplies with him, he stepped out and saw that it was indeed night time. How long it had been that way, he could only guess.

Leaving her chambers, he made his way down to the kitchens. The warmth of the fire called to him as the nights during summer were icy. Depositing his load on the kitchen table, he lay down by the hearth. He curled into the steady heat and soon fell asleep.

That was how Viola found him the next morning. Some of the ash from the fireplace had landed on his face and had been smudged sometime during his sleep. She could not bare to wake him. Rumours of what Hela had him do had floated through the house. Kneeling down beside him, she reached out and gently swiped away what ash she could reach and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

Standing back up, she saw the sewing supplies on the table and shook her head. So the stories were true then. Movement from behind her alerted her to the arrival of the maids. Lifting a finger to her lips, she gestured for them to be as quiet as possible.

Even when the sun rose, she let him sleep. He got so little of it these days.

Unfortunately, the moment there was even a little bit of day light, the peace was shattered by the ringing of the bells. It was their harsh sound that woke Loki. Blinking, he stared at the unlit hearth before noticing the activity around him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stood, earning a warm smile from Viola.

"Sleep well, young master?"

"As well as one can by a fireplace," he replied, smiling sleepily and ran a hand through his hair.

"Here," Viola said, passing him a cup of tea. "Something that will help you wake up."

Smiling gratefully, Loki took the cup and took a sip of the warm contents. They had remembered his favourite infusion and the thought warmed his heart. Not everyone had forgotten about him then.

He was not even halfway through when the first call of his name came. Loud and clear and in Hela's voice. "LOKI!"

"And so another day begins," he muttered and set down his cup, steam curling up from it, making Viola frown. Could he not even finish his tea before they started commanding him about?

Thor still had not returned, so it seemed that Hela was making up for it. Entering her room, he went for the wardrobe and found her standing there, holding one of the gowns he had hemmed the night before.

"What is this?" She demanded.

"The adjusted hem, mistress," he replied, more than a little confused. "As you requested."

"Just so, _little brother_ ," she hissed and threw the gown down. "I thought that these," she said, pausing to lift one of his arms, showcasing the golden cuff, "would prevent you from using that magic of yours."

"You believe I used seidr for this?" Loki asked softly, staring at the discarded gown.

"What other explanation is there?" Hela demanded, gripping his wrist just a little too tightly. "Am I to believe that you did this all, by hand?"

"It is the truth," he replied, meeting her stare. "My mother taught me." He watched, with satisfaction, as Hela clenched her jaw in obvious irritation.

"I am having a very hard time believing you," she murmured and narrowed her eyes. "Therefore, you will come with me."

He knew what was coming next. It was the family's answer to everything they couldn't understand. The servants they passed flinched at the grip Hela still had on his wrist and the anger in her eyes.

The courtyard was mercifully empty. Audiences were never nice during these events. In long strides, Hela lead him over to a familiar tree. The ropes were still there, as was the whip.

Without much ceremony, she tore the tunic off his back, exposing to her all the scars from before. In the same, careless manner, she secured his wrists with the rope. She tied them at such an angle that he was forced to his knees.

"Ten, I think," he heard her mutter to herself as she retrieved the whip.

Each of the ten felt like a hundred. The sun did nothing for the pain when she finally stopped. His back was ablaze and he was hard pressed to stay conscious. He barely noticed it when his wrists were freed. The hands that did so were much too gentle to be Hela's.

"Not even midday and already this," Viola muttered. Gently she lowered him and rested his head in her lap. "How dare she do this?" She whispered, tears welling up at every pained breath he took. "How dare she?"

With the help of the gardener and the stable hand, she finally managed to get him inside and onto her bed. Lay him on his stomach, she did. The sight of his wounds made her flinch, even after she had cleaned them.

Consciousness returned to him as Viola finished with the bandages. "Where am I?" Loki asked weakly, trying to look around.

"My room," Viola replied, walking into his field of vision. "I brought you here after, well..." she trailed off and looked to her lap.

Reaching out, he took hold of one of her hands and squeezed gently. "Thank you," he whispered.

"She has no right to treat you in such a manner," Viola huffed, keeping a hold on his hand. "Why did she do that anyway?"

"Because she believes I used my seidr to complete a task she set for me," Loki explained.

"But those..." Viola said, looking to the golden band around his wrist.

"I know," he muttered. "But when does she, or Thor, or even the General, ever listen to reason?"

Viola cracked a smile. "True."

"Has Thor returned?"

The cook nodded. "Indeed he has. Only a short while ago."

"There is something you are not telling me," Loki said, eyes fixing on hers. "What is it Viola? What has happened?"

"It seems the General wishes for Thor to _befriend_ the Princess."

Loki paled at her words. Everyone knew what the General meant by those words. He wanted Thor to marry her. "I see," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I see." Turning his face away, he let one tear slip.

Viola sighed and let go of his hand, gently laying it on the bed before standing. Pausing by the doorway, she glanced back at him. She had seen his eyes before he had closed them and turned away. The pain in them did not come from his back. But from his heart.


	5. Remnants of departed days

"Mother, must I? Besides, it looks like it will rain soon."

Frigga laughed at her daughter's tone that was nearing on petulant. "You mustn't go for long, my dear. This is simply a visit of courtesy, an answer to an invitation. Nothing more."

"I'm sure the General wants it to be more," Y/N grumbled and settled for scowling at her reflection as Celeste dressed her in a deep purple [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/165155511322516610/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) with gold embroidery.

"He is a friend of your father's," Frigga said, standing up and going to her. "Think of this an indulgence on his part."

"Then why doesn't he go?" She muttered.

"Because he is the King," her mother replied, meeting her daughter's eyes in the mirror.

"And I am but a Princess, nothing more than a bargaining chip, for him at least," Y/N whispered, her hands fidgeting.

"Do not say such things," Frigga exclaimed. "They are untrue."

"Are they?" Y/N asked, rounding on her, causing Celeste to step away. "It is no secret, mother. The whole realm knows that he wanted a son to succeed him, but instead he got me."

Frigga sighed and stepped forward, pulling her daughter into an embrace. With one hand, she traced soothing circles on Y/N's back, while the other gently cradled her head. "Oh my darling," she murmured. "Yes, he desired a son. But that does not mean he loves you any less."

Against her, she felt the fight leave Y/N. "Is that why he would have me meet with someone he knows I despise?" She asked, arms coming up to wrap around her mother.

"He simply wishes to retain the good relations between our two families," the Queen explained. "Please, my darling. You need only stay an hour at the most. Celeste will be with you."

Nodding, the Princess sighed, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder. "Okay."

Frigga smiled and patted her back before stepping away and smoothing her daughter's hair. "You look beautiful," she said, cupping Y/N's cheek.

"Do I have to wear the headdress?"

Laughing, Frigga shook her head. "No. Not today."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Y/N turned away from the mirror and sat at her vanity while Celeste styled her hair. A braided crown and a bun at the nape of her neck.

Frigga watched from the palace steps as the carriage trundled away. Y/N had always been reluctant to meet those her parents deemed as worthy suitors. All but one.

~ ~ ~

The estate was buzzing with the impending visit of the Princess.

For the first time in well over six months, the General was at the manor. He said and did nothing, save for attiring himself in his finest and remaining in the drawing room. All around him, the servants bustled.

How long she was to stay, it was uncertain. Nevertheless, it was a step forward.

He had ordered the kitchens to prepare the finest foods for their royal guest. The house was to be spotless, from the roof, right down to the cellar. The Princess was familiar with the property, but had not been in some years.

Hela sauntered into the drawing room, attired in a stunning [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/476677941792057941/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) of red and gold. Her ink black hair hung loose down her back and shimmered like spilled oil. Her kohl lined eyes brightened upon seeing her father.

"Hela, my darling," Njal greeted her, smiling warmly. "You look more beautiful than the Princess could ever hope to be."

She preened under his praise. "I hope so," she replied, returning his smile.

"Where is your brother?" Njal asked, looking to the room's entrance.

"Which one?"

The General leveled his daughter with a look. "You only have one."

"Thor will be along shortly," Hela replied, folding her hands before her, her rings clacking softly. "He is hoping to delay his appearance for as long as possible."

"You may well inherit the estate if he doesn't act his age soon," Njal remarked and sighed heavily.

"Shall I detain him for a moment longer then?" Hela asked, grinning.

Laughing, Njal shook his head and called for a servant to fetch his son. At the same time, it was announced that the Princess's carriage had pulled through the front gates.

They were the picture of nobility as they awaited the carriage. When at last the door opened, it was her maid that stepped out first, dressed in a modest [gown](http://www.rossetti.vispa.com/waterhouse-gown.html) of light green and hemmed with gold. Next, came Her Highness.

A delicate bracelet of gold and fine emeralds glimmered on the wrist the footman took to assist her. Her gown flowed out around her and settled as she stood before the trio, Celeste a little step behind her.

"Your Highness," the family chorused as they bowed and curtsied before her.

She smiled down at them and gestured for them to rise. "I am most thankful for such an invitation, my lord General," she said. "It has been quite a time since I have last travelled here."

"You honour us with your presence," Njal replied. "You know my children? Lady Hela," he nodded to his daughter. "And my son, the Lord Thor."

Y/N maintained her smile. "Indeed I do, my lord. Though it is a pleasure to reacquaint myself with them."

"Your Highness," Thor said, stepping forward and offering his arm.

Taking his arm, Y/N nodded for them to lead the way inside. Celeste trailed behind, narrowed eyes focused on the lord currently beside her mistress.

The interior was just as she remembered. Looking up and around her, she let a soft sigh pass. It truly had been a while. Though her memories of her last visit were tainted with grief. Blinking away the tears welling up, she moved her mind back, before that day.

_"Y/N?"_

Looking to the twin staircase at the sound of her name, she looked up, a smile at the ready. But there was no one there. He wasn't there. 

"Are you quite alright, mistress?" Celeste asked, stepping up beside her.

Swallowing, the Princess nodded and forced her gaze forward. "Yes," she managed to say. "Quite."

Celeste wasn't in the least bit convinced. But she let it be. It was not her place to question Her Highness.

A feast had been prepared it seemed, in her honour. "You did not have to go to such trouble," she said to Thor, who was still beside her.

The young man smiled at her words. "It was no trouble, Your Highness. You deserve only the best."

While the General was seated at the head of the table, Y/N found herself next to Hela. Hela who was now admiring rather closely, the bracelet on her wrist. Y/N thought nothing of it, it was a beautiful piece of jewelry and deserved the attention.

"Quite lovely," she murmured, at last catching Y/N's attention.

"What is?" She asked.

"Your bracelet, Your Highness," Hela replied.

"Oh, this," the Princess whispered, her eyes softening. "Yes, it is. Quite possibly the most precious piece I own."

"I find that very hard to believe," Hela laughed and took a sip of her wine.

"Do you?" Y/N asked, gently touching the small gems. "Why?"

"You must have quite a collection, Your Highness," Hela said, accepting food from a passing servant. "You must have many precious items throughout it."

"Perhaps you mistook my meaning?" Y/N asked, bypassing the wine and drinking from the water instead.

"How so, Your Highness?"

"I did not mean precious as in their beauty," Y/N replied patiently. "For if so, then you would be correct. I meant in their value to me. This piece was given to me by someone we both knew well, your late step-brother. He was...very dear to me. In wearing it, I carry him with me."

Celeste stood by silently, melting into the shadows, her heart went out to her mistress. She was brave in coming here, a place filled to the brim with memories. Good and bad.

"I see," Hela murmured, sharing a look with her father.

"I apologise," Y/N said, laying her cutlery to the side and smiling apologetically. "I have been a terrible guest, my lord General."

"Nonsense, Your Highness," Njal replied. "You are recounting the past, there is no harm in that. After all, it has been quite some time since you last set foot here."

"Indeed it has," Y/N said, nodding.

The remainder of the meal passed in a quieter fashion, the odd conversation springing up every now and then. When at last it came to an end, Y/N was the first to rise. "Would you mind terribly if I were to take a walk about the property? I should like to see if anything has changed or remained the same in my time away." 

"Of course not, Your Highness," Thor spoke up, pointedly ignoring his sister and father. "I would be glad to accompany you."

"Actually," she said, flashing a small smile his way. "I would, if you don't mind, like to take this walk alone. For memory's sake."

Celeste fought to keep quiet at the look of sheer shock on the faces of their hosts. Biting her lip, she ducked her head and followed her mistress from the room and back outside.

Y/N remained silent throughout the walk. The scorching heat, she paid little heed to, for her attention had been caught by dark rain clouds that could be seen gathering on the horizon. Here the rains in summer always cooled the earth down for a day or two before the heat came back.

From the kitchens she watched her. The Princess. Leaning against the doorway, Viola watched her. She had not changed a bit. And yet, she had. Something was different, something she could not quite discern.

"Your Highness?" She dared to call out as the young woman ventured closer.

Her face lit up with a smile. "You remember me?"

The cook laughed and nodded. "Indeed I do, Your Highness."

"It all looks the same," Y/N remarked, looking over her shoulder and back to her companion. "And yet, still so different."

"Much has changed, mistress," Viola agreed.

"But I see that you are still here," Y/N said, smiling widely. "Staying with the family even after her ladyship and her son have passed. That is very kind of you."

She wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. Why would the Princess think the young master was-? Her question answered itself. Meeting the younger woman's eyes, she saw sadness taint those lovely e/c eyes.

"I am so sorry," Y/N hastily apologised, mistaking her silence. "I did not mean to bring up painful memories."

"It is quite alright, Your Highness," Viola murmured. "I suppose this place is rife with them."

"I suppose you think me a coward," Y/N whispered, shaking her head. "For only coming when I have been invited and not sooner."

"You are many things, Your Highness, but not a coward."

Y/N smiled weakly. "It feels wrong without him here," she said softly. "So very wrong."

"I know," Viola murmured, reaching out and taking one of her hands. "I know."

"Why did he have to leave, Viola?" Y/N asked, tears gathering in her eyes. "Why couldn't he have stayed for just a little while longer?"

It was in this moment that Viola realised what it was. The Princess was in mourning. "You miss him?"

Y/N nodded. "I do. More than someone like me should ever miss someone. But I do, terribly."

"You are wearing it, I see?"

"Yes," she whispered, the sun glittering off the emeralds. "He gave it to me as a gift for my birthday, the year before he-," clenching her jaw, she fought the emotions.

"I remember," Viola replied, smiling in memory.

"You do?"

"Oh aye. He was so proud of it, he showed it off to the whole household after he had completed it."

Y/N chuckled and looked down at her wrist. "He never told me that."

"I would wager there are a great many things he didn't tell you."

"There are many things I did not tell him either," the Princess murmured and smiled sadly. "If I could have but one more day, I would say them all."

"That," Viola said, glancing down. "I can easily believe."

Beside their feet, unseen by Y/N and Celeste, was the smallest window that allowed fresh air into the manor cellars. Pale fingers were curled around the bars as the room's sole occupant listened intently to every word. He would have said something himself, maybe even dared to call out, had a muzzle not been affixed to his mouth, rendering him mute.

"You have not forgotten him then?" Viola asked, squeezing her hand.

"No," Y/N replied, letting a tear fall. "Norns no! How could I ever?" Lifting her face to the sky, she felt the first raindrop fall and in her hurry to step indoors, she did not feel the desperate brush of a hand against the hem of her gown.


	6. True colours

The moment the royal carriage crossed the property's boundary, Njal turned to his children. "Where is he?"

The siblings shared a look before turning back to their father. "In the cellar," Thor replied. "It is unlikely that he even knew she was here."

"We cannot be certain of everything," Njal muttered. "Fetch him and bring him to my study."

Nodding, both Hela and Thor turned on their heels and headed back inside. It was only on a very rare occasion that either of them ever ventured below the ground floor. The door to the expansive cellar was constructed of solid wood and bolted from the outside. A small lamp hung beside it, casting their shadows on the walls beside them.

"You have the keys, Hela," Thor said to his sister and stepped aside as she bent to unlock the heavy padlock. The key slid in easily and turned, clicking softly as the lock was opened. Sliding the padlock free, Hela released the bolt and pushed the door open. It swung soundlessly on well-oiled hinges.

More lamps hung inside, but at intervals between the stacks of barrels and shelving units. It was cold, despite the heat outside.

They did not bother with calling, for they saw him the moment they stepped inside. He was right where they had left him. Only now, he was resting his head against the cool stone wall. The lamp light glinted softly off the metal of the muzzle and the cuffs on his wrists.

Striding over while Hela held the door open, Thor hauled him to his feet with not so much as a word in greeting. The eyes that looked back at him were as though he had woken from a dream. The haze that covered them was soon blinked away and a sharp green glared up at him.

Nodding to Hela the moment they crossed the threshold, Thor waited for her to bolt the door before she took Loki's other side. Thor held one arm, while Hela held the other and together they herded their brother up the stone steps.

The General's study was on the topmost floor and overlooked the estate grounds. Large windows made for a complete wall, windows that were now partially covered with curtains to keep out the heat.

The double doors opened to admit his children and between them, his step-son. There was a fire in those green eyes that he had not seen for quite some time. Rising from his seat, Njal approached the trio. "Remove the muzzle, if you would," he said, looking to Thor.

"Are you sure, father?"

Njal nodded. "Unfortunately, I will need to hear him speak."

The moment the muzzle was gone, Loki stretched his jaw and licked his dry lips, but remained silent. He held the General's gaze.

"I am disappointed in you," the General said, folding his arms and sitting on the edge of his rather ornate desk. "After everything I have done for you since Fárbauti's passing, is a little gratitude too much to be expected?"

Still, Loki said nothing. Disappointment came naturally to the General.

A resounding slap from Hela had him tasting copper. "Answer him," she hissed. He was surprised her forked tongue didn't follow.

"I will," he replied smoothly, dabbing lightly at his split lip. "When I have something to say."

"Why you-"

"Hela!" Njal interjected, "enough. Please leave us, Thor you too." The moment the doors closed behind the two, Njal rounded on him. "You would dare to take such a tone with me?" He demanded. "After all that I have done to help you. This is the thanks I get?"

For the first time in two years, Loki laughed. It was short and cold. _"Everything you have done for me?"_ He repeated, eyes hardening. "And what might that 'everything' you speak of be?"

"The roof over your head. The clothes on your back. The food in your stomach," Njal replied harshly.

"Nothing I did not have while my mother was alive," Loki replied, meeting his gaze head-on. "Nothing I would not have had after her death. I only stay and endure the presence of your family in my home because of the promise I made to my mother."

The General was quiet. In the two years since his wife's death, never had Loki spoken to him like this. There had always been a defiant streak in him, but he had never voiced it. He had endured all their treatments with unnerving calm and responded to their insults with irritating kindness. "Perhaps you are in need of a lesson in respect, boy!" He hissed. Pushing away from his desk, he strode over to the younger man, towering over him.

Fárbauti's son looked up at him with eyes that were so similar to her own.

Reaching down, Njal snatched up one of his hands and held it tightly within his own. "Let's see how well you do without this, shall we?"

Pulled forward by the General's strong grip, Loki stumbled after him. If he were to lose a hand, the work they demanded of him would not be completed. But he knew, as Njal took his hand and splayed it on his desk, that losing it might have been the kinder option.

He knew that struggling would get him nowhere. Setting his jaw, he braced himself for the inevitable.

Even those that worked on the grounds heard it. His cry tore through the house and had Thor and Hela rushing back to the study, only to burst in and find their step-brother kneeling on the floor at their father's feet. To his chest, he clutched a bruised and bloodied hand. His face was paler than they had ever seen it and his shoulders heaved with each breath he took.

"Get him out of here," Njal said upon seeing them.

"What happened, father?" Hela asked as Thor hauled a barely conscious Loki from the room.

"A lesson that needed to be taught," Njal replied and smiled warmly at his daughter.

Down in the kitchens, Viola was livid. She had been unable to look Thor in the eye as he had practically tossed his younger sibling into the kitchens. The maids nearby had managed to catch him and bring him over to where Viola stood.

Instantly, she had them carry him to her room. She did not care if that brute saw.

The poor boy whimpered as she gently moved his hand to clean it. What could he possibly have done to deserve this? His back was still healing and now this? With the lightest touches, she managed to clean the blood away. The sight of the bruises and mangled bones made her heart twist within her. She had set bones before, but not while the person was awake.

"Ellaria?" She called out, catching the attention of one of the kitchen maids.

"Yes?" The maid answered, poking her head in the doorway. Her long red hair had been tucked into a bun, but stray strands curled around her flushed face. Her kind, blue eyes landed on Loki and winced at the sight of his hand.

"I need you to gather all the bandages and linens you can find. I need some wood, small pieces, enough to fit between fingers. Alcohol too, the strongest we have."

Ellaria nodded in time to the cook's words. "But the General has the strongest liquor," she whispered, alarmed.

"Then we must distract him long enough to attain it," Viola replied. "The young master needs our help more than ever. The pain will be too much for him to remain awake."

"I have just the thing," Ellaria murmured, grinning and whispered into Viola's ear.

"Brilliant," the cook praised. "Now go, we cannot waste even a moment."

Ellaria bobbed a nod before spinning on her heels and rushing back towards the kitchens.

An inordinate amount of time passed and Viola refused to leave his side. The pain had long since rendered him unconscious. Shifting in her position, Viola moved to sit a little closer to him. His breathing was shallow and sweat beaded along his hairline. "I curse the day he set foot in this house," she whispered, running a gentle hand over his hair. "You are much too kindhearted for him."

Ellaria watched silently from the door, a bottle of the strongest liquor in her hands. Her plan had proven to be successful. Looking down at him, she smiled sadly. He looked so different from the day she had first laid eyes on him. That had been five years ago now. He had been as kind to her then, as he was now. It hurt her to see someone treated so. Especially someone she had come to consider a friend.

"Viola?" She whispered, catching the cook's attention.

"Ah, excellent," Viola replied upon seeing what Ellaria carried. "I will be needing your assistance."

"Of course."

"There is a very high chance that he will wake up when we begin," Viola explained. "I will need you to help distract him and to help me set the splints in place."

Ellaria swallowed hard. She had never done anything like this before. "Very well," she said and smiled bravely.

As predicted, he did wake. Ellaria was quick to begin speaking with him. "I'm certain that you know Her Highness visited today?"

Clenching his jaw, Loki nodded. "Yes," he forced out and gratefully accepted the bottle she offered and took a long, hearty swig. "Thank you."

"She is so beautiful and elegant," she gushed, "much more than Hela, she even came into the kitchens and spoke with us."

Loki smiled as best he could. Yes, he could see her there, standing and talking with the servants like she had all those years ago. "I heard her," he whispered.

"You did?" Ellaria asked, surprised.

He nodded, though his next words were cut off by a soft cry as Viola shifted a bone fragment back into place. Recovering, he looked up at Ellaria, who's hand he now gripped like a vice. "Yes."

The maid smiled down at him and laid her hand atop his. "Her maid was wearing the colours you used to wear," she said. "Green and gold."

"And Her Highness?" He asked.

"Gold and dark purple," Ellaria replied. "And the most beautiful amethyst earrings. Her hair was done up, though a few tendrils escaped and framed her face."

In his mind's eye, he could see her. Oh yes, he had heard her. That lovely voice of hers that he had never thought to hear again. She had been so close, his heart reached out for her as surely as his hands had. "My heart beats for yours," he whispered. "It is yours."

Alarmed, Ellaria looked to Viola who shook her head, mouthing "later."

Louder, she said, "I need you here, while I put the splints on."

Nodding, Ellaria uncurled his hand from hers, though she doubted that he noticed.

The pain was magnified as the splints were secured and both women could see just much he was restraining himself. The moment it was done, Viola laid the injured hand on the thickest pillow she had Ellaria find.

"Don't you move," Viola instructed him gently. "If they should come calling, I will handle them." With those words and a light kiss to the forehead, she departed, Ellaria in tow.

The moment they stepped into the kitchen, Ellaria turned to Viola. "So?" She asked, folding her hands. "Why did he say those things?"

"Not here," Viola hissed and pulled the maid with her so they stood outside.

"Well?"

"Four years ago, her ladyship and the young master went up the palace like they had always done when she came back from her travels," Viola explained. "But while they were there, he met Her Highness and was introduced to her by the Queen."

"Were they-?" Ellaria asked, eyes wide.

"Truth be told," Viola replied, folding her arms and shaking her head thoughtfully. "I do not know what they were. But they were close, if anything."

"Very close, from what I heard today," Ellaria muttered.

"Many of us here believed that one day, fates willing, they would be married," Viola continued. "But then her ladyship married _him._ From there, everything slid south." Looking over her shoulder in the direction of her room, she sighed. "He lost more than his mother that day. He lost Y/N as well."

"How so?"

"When the Princess and the Queen came to give their condolences at the news of her ladyship's passing," Viola said. "Her Highness was also informed that he had died, a mere few hours after his mother."

Ellaria gasped. "But why?"

"The General and his children knew of the connection between them," Viola explained. "Jealous, they sought to sever it. For you see, the General wants his son as a potential suitor, _without_ any threats in the way."


	7. The archeress

It had been an age since she had last set foot on the archery field. The targets lined up neatly before her. The bow in her hand and the quiver on her back were welcome weights. They comforted her and made her smile.

Celeste was a way behind her, seated beneath a tree with an embroidery frame perched on her knees. "Why did you insist on such an activity when it is bound to rain again at any moment?"

Y/N laughed and selected an arrow before nocking it to the bow and focusing on the target closest to her. "You didn't have to come with me, you know?" She replied, narrowing her eyes.

"And be scolded by your parents for not keeping an eye on you?" Celeste shot back, "I think not."

With all the precision that was the product of many years training, Y/N released the arrow and watched as it lodged itself dead centre. "And that is how it is done," she said, mainly to herself. Readying another arrow, she looked up at the sky and saw the clouds darkening.

Setting aside her task, Celeste regarded her mistress. Attired in her usual [training gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-flax-linen-dress-archeress-with-undertunic-and-corset), the Princess looked happier than she had been in a while. Despite the weight of the earlier visit, she was smiling. The gold earrings she wore tinkled softly as she moved to the next target. Lifting her arms into position, she focused and let the arrow fly. The maid watched her with a faint smile, the Princess was better than most of the trained archers in her father's army.

It was known that sometimes Her Highness was seen out among the soldiers, testing her skill against theirs.

The air around them was still and had mercifully cooled in anticipation of the coming rain. Celeste was not too fond of the idea of getting caught in it, but the Princess did not look to be heading back anytime soon.

Looking over her shoulder, Celeste groaned upon seeing that they would soon have company.

The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were making their way over. Said to be the elite in the Allfather's army, Celeste had yet to see them best her mistress.

"Your Highness," Lady Sif greeted the Princess. "We did not know you would be here."

Y/N smiled at the group. "It is quite alright, Lady Sif. I do not mind."

"Forgive me," Fandral spoke up, bowing as he did so. "But it has been some time since we have last seen you here."

"Quite right," Y/N replied, adjusting the grip she had on her bow. "But I am here now. If that makes you uncomfortable, you need not stay."

The warriors glanced at each other before turning back to her. By now, the Princess had chosen her next target and took a deep breath before releasing the arrow. "Surely you did not come to gawk?" She remarked, seeing her arrow hit the target's centre.

"No, Your Highness," Sif replied and stepped back, ushering her companions along with her.

It seemed Fandral had other ideas. He stayed where he was when he next spoke. "Since it is such a pleasant surprise to see you here," he said, not seeing how Y/N rolled her eyes. "Surely you would not mind indulging us in a little friendly competition?"

Nor did he see how her eyes lit up. A competition huh?

Celeste narrowed her eyes at the warriors. Who did they think they were, to challenge a member of the royal family? "How very presumptuous of you," she said, sidling up to the Princess, but keeping her eyes on the four warriors. "That you would dare to challenge Her Highness."

"Remember your place, girl," Volstagg rumbled, not deterring her in the least.

At last, Y/N turned to face them. Her lips were curved in a pleasant smile. "She knows her place, Volstagg. If anyone were to remind her of it, it would be me. You would do well to remember yours."

"Yes, Your Highness," he mumbled, bowing.

Satisfied, she nodded. "Now," she said. "A competition you say?"

"Indeed," Fandral replied.

"On foot or horseback?" The Princess asked, her eyes alight with the prospect of either.

Taken aback by her question, they did not answer right away and Celeste felt a surge of satisfaction rise up. Serves them right.

"On foot," Sif replied, her three companions nodding in agreement.

"Very well," Y/N said, her smile widening. Celeste hurriedly retrieved the arrows and brought them back, giving them to Y/N, who stowed them away in her quiver. "Shall we?"

They began with the closest target. After some insistence, Y/N had managed to persuade them to go first. She watched intently as Lady Sif readied her weapon and aimed for the target's bullseye.

There was utter silence as she released the arrow and watched it land a few inches shy of her mark.

"Nicely done, my lady," the Princess praised, clapping softly. "Fandral?"

The blonde warrior took his place and like Sif had done, readied the bow.

"Whenever you are ready," Y/N said, earning a snort of laughter from Celeste, who did not even bother to hide it.

Unlike Sif, his arrow landed much further away from the centre, practically at the target's rim.

"Well done, my lord," Y/N called out, "we can work our way in from there."

So it was the same with Volstagg and Hogun. Lady Sif's remained the best shot. Soon however, it was Y/N's turn.

Muttering amongst themselves, the warriors watched. They had heard the stories and sometimes even seen her during practice with the men. It was said that her bow was specially made for her by the weapons master Cathán Hatlen. It was a beautiful weapon and matched the elegance of its owner.

What little sun there was, glinted off the arrow's tip. A light breeze picked up, rustling her gown and causing her earring to tinkle. This would require a little more focus. With a focused breath, she released the arrow and watched it sail through the air and make the mark. "Shall we proceed?" She asked, spinning to face the small group.

Celeste was quick to follow her as she made her way to the stables. The warriors followed quickly.

A further surprise came when the Princess halted the stable hands as they went to fetch the saddle and tack. "We shall be riding bareback."

"Very well, Your Highness," the stable hands murmured, bowing before departing.

"What?" Y/N said, seeing the shock on the faces the warriors. "Have you never ridden as such?" When they shook their heads, she chuckled. "Come along."

Opting to remain on foot, Celeste walked beside the Princess and her chestnut mount.

Soon out in the field again, Y/N smiled upon feeling the first rain drop. This would only add to the challenge and one she would wholeheartedly enjoy. She welcomed the rain as it soon began to fall harder, soaking her to the bone.

She watched closely as the warriors showed their skills, the horses kicking up the earth as they ran. She was impressed as they each made their shots, it was no easy task to fire an arrow from the back of a moving horse.

The rain had plastered her hair to her forehead, forcing her to swipe it away as she prepared herself for her turn. She only hoped that her lack of practice would not shine through, it had been too long since she had last done this.

Wordlessly encouraging her horse to move, she lifted her arms into position and sought the target through the rain.

Celeste watched from beneath a tree. The last time her mistress had done this was in very different company. The weather had been rather pleasant, having been in mid spring. He had insisted she go first. She had indulged him with a smirk and had proceeded to hit the targets.

The maid allowed herself a nostalgic smile in memory of that day. He was an excellent marksman himself, the only one to ever match her.

Y/N narrowed her eyes and fired. The last target was fast approaching and her audience was watching with baited breath. Her gown clung to her and threatened to impede her movements. The leather bracers felt heavy and waterlogged. As her last arrow found its home in the target, she let out a breath of relief.

She made for quite a sight, soaked through from the rain and atop her horse.

"Well?" She said, guiding her horse to where they stood. "Has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"Indeed," Sif replied and grinned. "It seems we are unable to match you, Your Highness. Perhaps you ought to join our ranks."

Y/N laughed and shook her head. "I think not, Lady Sif. Though I thank you for the kind offer."

The Warriors Three were decidedly less happy. It was not often they were shown up. They did not share in their friend's happiness. They wanted nothing more than to leave as quickly as possible.

"This rain is only bound to get heavier," Y/N remarked, looking up into the rain. "I bid you all good day."

With echoed sentiments, the warriors took their leave.

"Your father is not going to like this," Celeste said once they were alone. "Your mother may not be very happy about it either."

"My father isn't happy about most of the things I do," Y/N replied, dismounting once they were back at the stables. "And my mother understands, at the very least."

"Will she understand you trailing water and mud into the Palace?"

The Princess grinned. "I hope so."

Both women were thoroughly drenched by the time they set foot in the Palace. As Celeste had predicted, a trail of muddy water was left in their wake, making the servants they passed mutter and shake their heads.

"Y/N!"

Her head snapped up at the sound of her mother calling her. "Hello, mother."

Frigga's eyes widened at the sight of her daughter. "Look at you," she laughed, shaking her head. "What exactly have the both of you been up to?"

"Archery practice," Y/N replied. "The Warriors Three and Lady Sif and I engaged in a friendly test of skill."

The Queen raised an eyebrow. "In any case," she said after a short pause, "we had best get the two of you into some dry clothing before the King sees you and before you catch your death in this cold."

"I'm afraid that may be too late, Your Majesty," Celeste said, eyes fixed to a spot behind the Queen.

Frigga turned and sighed upon seeing her husband. "Celeste," she whispered. "Take Her Highness back to her chambers, _quickly."_

Nodding, Celeste took the Princess's hand and pulled her down the hall, past the King, whose one remaining eye watched them like a hawk.

The moment both were behind her chamber doors, they burst into a fit laughter. The chambers were soon filled with the sound before they hurried to the bathing chamber.

A pounding on the door only came after both had managed to clean themselves up. Celeste moved to stand a short distance away as the Princess rose to answer the door, the fabric of her newly donned gown rustling softly against the carpet.

As expected, it was the Allfather who stood there, the Queen beside him. Y/N stepped back and allowed her parents to enter. She did not speak right away, choosing instead to focus on the embroidered hem of her floor-length sleeves. The [gown's](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-linen-dress-and-suede-bodice-lady-of-the-lake) light blue cooled the red that had begun to flush her cheeks.

"This behaviour must cease," Odin said, looking down at his daughter. "You are no longer a child."

"I was training," Y/N replied, looking up at last. "I have not done it in some time and I do not wish to lose the skill."

"One does not go outdoors when the weather is so inclement," Odin told her. "Yet you did so anyway."

"Your soldiers train when it rains," she protested. "They even train in the winter."

"You are not a soldier, Y/N," he said, his patience was slipping fast. "You are a Princess of Asgard. It is time you behaved as such."

Sighing, she passed a ring clad hand over her damp hair. "What you mean to say is, it is time I married, isn't it?"

"It is your duty."

"My duty is to my people," she shot back, meeting her father's eye.

"There will be series of balls," her father said after a brief pause. "Throughout these, you will choose."

"Choose what?" Y/N asked softly, exchanging a look with her mother.

"Your intended."

Closing her eyes, she sighed and nodded. "Very well, but may I make a request?"

"What is it?" The King asked.

"Conduct the balls after sunset, but during the day, a test of skill."

"What did you have in mind?" Odin asked, eye narrowing.

"The one who is able to match me on the field of archery as well as in the ballroom," she explained, twisting her hands. "He is the one I will marry. The one who manages these in three days, I will wed."

Her parents glanced at each other in surprise.

"Darling," Frigga spoke up, stepping up to her daughter and taking her hands in hers. "Are you sure?" Her voice was soft and her eyes were sad.

Y/N knew what her mother was asking and she nodded. "Yes."

"Very well," Odin declared, "but mind you keep your word, daughter." With those words, the King swept from the room.

The moment Frigga left, Celeste swooped in. Y/N had moved to stand by the closed balcony doors and was watching the rain. "Mistress?"

"I know, Celeste," the Princess sighed, "but I suppose I shall never stop hoping."

No words came. For what could she possibly say? The Princess was stubborn, if nothing else. But now, she was hoping for something, for _someone_ , that wasn't there. "Be careful not to lose yourself in the past, mistress," she said softly, coming to stand beside her.

"Why?" Y/N sighed. "It is much happier than the present."

Celeste looked up at her. "The past is gone, mistress. That cannot be changed."

"You needn't remind me," she muttered and turned in a swirl of light blue. Making a brief stop by her bed, she picked up the book that lay there with an emerald green ribbon marking her progress. Without so much as a glance back, she left the room.


	8. The announcement

_" To all the eligible gentlemen of the House,_

_By royal invitation, you are invited to attend a series of Royal Balls and a contest of skill on the field of Archery._

_To be held at the Palace during when Her Highness will select her intended._

_To be conducted over a span of three days, beginning on the Fourteenth day of the coming Month at sunrise."_

_~ Odin Allfather "_

Njal had smiled as he had read the announcement. It had come early that morning and had promised him an excellent day ahead. This was his chance. _Their_ chance. With Thor married to the kingdom's only heir, the things he could accomplish were beyond counting.

His musings were interrupted by a series of light knocks on the door of his study. "Enter," he replied and was greeted with the face of one of the maids. In her hands she carried a tray of the tea he preferred to drink in the mornings. It was strong and black, even a little bitter near the end.

Setting the tray down, the maid smiled, a pretty thing with warm brown eyes and hair the colour of the finest wheat. He watched her as she poured the steaming liquid into his waiting cup with steady hands. Small callouses decorated her palms, some old and others newly acquired.

"My lord," she murmured and bobbed a curtsy before swiftly leaving the room.

The maid, who went by the name of Odelle, could barely contain her excitement. Making sure not to stumble in her hurry to return, she made her way back to the kitchens. The scents of breakfast preparation wafted out to greet her and made her smile widen. Oh she could not wait to tell them!

Trotting into the kitchen, she set down her tray with just a little too much enthusiasm. The sound of metal connecting with wood made everyone jump and Odelle hastily apologised.

"What was that all about?" Viola demanded, wiping at her brow and looking expectantly at the maid.

"You will never guess what I saw in his lordship's study," Odelle said, gaining the attention of the kitchen maids and the footmen who were still waking up.

"Well go on," Ellaria urged, leaning forward against the preparation table. "Do not make us wait."

"It was from the Palace!" Odelle burst out. "It looked very important, there was the Royal Seal and everything. I didn't get a chance to read it properly. But there was a lot of the fancy writing the royals like to use."

There was a moment of silence before the kitchens erupted into chatter as each voiced their opinion on what it could possibly be.

Viola remained silent as she thought it over. Out of corner of her eye, she saw Loki stand at the entrance to the servant's quarters and made her way over to him. He look rested at the very least. A rested as one could be after what had happened.

"What is all this?" He asked, faint amusement glittering in his eyes.

"Gossip," Viola replied. "Odelle saw something from the Palace in the General's study this morning. They all believe they know what it is."

"From the Palace?" Loki echoed. "I will admit that I am curious."

"As am I," Viola muttered. "As am I. Alright," she said in a louder voice, addressing the chattering household staff. "Enough of that. Back to work. And you," she said, turning back to Loki, "back to bed and rest that hand."

Throughout the day, the missive from the Palace was all that was spoken about. Even those that toiled out of doors chattered on about it.

The evening was not much better. The excitement only grew when it came time to serve dinner to the family. The footmen were all but herded up the stairs with the promise to listen intently should the family say anything.

The dining room was silent as the family seated themselves, the children first, then the General. It had been an age since they had seen him smile as he did now.

"Father?" Hela asked, breaking the silence, "what has occurred for you to appear so happy?"

Thor too, was curious and leaned toward their father.

Paying no mind to the servants that placed the food and wine before him, Njal began to speak. "A missive came from the Palace today," as he spoke, he drew out a roll of parchment, from which hung a golden ribbon and the royal seal.

"What is it?" Thor asked.

"Here," Njal replied, passing the roll to him. "Read it and see for yourself."

In her curiosity, Hela rose from her place and stood behind her brother's chair to read over his shoulder. "An invitation," she breathed, eyes alight. "But father," she said, looking up. "There has not been a royal ball for many years."

"I know," Njal said. "But there has also not been a betrothal for equally as long."

"What is the meaning of this?" Thor asked, passing the parchment to Hela.

"You know very well," Njal said, meeting his son's blue gaze with his own. "If Her Highness insists on these trials, then you must compete."

"But why archery?" Hela asked, moving back to her seat. "Of all the skills a man must have, why that one?"

"I do not know," the General muttered, shaking his head.

"It has been an age since I have last wielded such a weapon, " Thor protested. "In no way will I be ready in the time the Allfather has set down."

"That is easily remedied," Njal replied, leaning back in his chair. "You must train. You are a capable warrior, my son. No skill, least of all this, is above you."

"I have no bow of my own," Thor said, worry etching lines across his brow. "I have never had any need for one."

"Then we must go and have one made," Njal said. "I have every confidence that you will be the one she chooses, my son. You have the ability and the charm that will blind her to all others."

"And what of the balls?" Hela asked, "am I permitted to attend? I know that the invitation only addresses you and Thor-"

"You shall come," Njal interjected, reaching out and taking her hand. "You are my daughter and my family. No one shall deny you entrance."

Comforted, Hela settled back in her seat, smiling warmly at her father.

All around them the servants brought in food and took some away, never stopping and always listening.

"I must have three new gowns made," she said after a while, eyes distant. "None of the ones I currently possess are suitable for such an illustrious event."

"Quite right, my dear," Njal agreed, nodding. "Send one of the servants into the town tomorrow to the tailors. They shall pass by the carpenters and inquire after a bow for Thor at the same time."

"Excellent," Hela practically purred. "And I have just the one in mind."

In the kitchens, there was chaos and amidst it all, Loki had managed to slip out. It was cooler in the night time and he took a deep breath of the cool air. His injured hand was held close and even the slightest movement sent white hot pain through the limb.

The hand was ruined, he knew that. Looking up, he saw that it was a clear night, with no clouds to obscure the stars from his searching eyes. A sigh as soft as the evening breeze passed his lips.

In such a setting, he might just consider that everything was as it should be.

"You can hear me, can you not?" He whispered to the stars. "What ever I shall say to you?" It had been so long since he had last spoken to his mother like this. But now, he needed her just as he had when he was younger.

"It is becoming harder everyday," he continued, eyes fixed to the glittering heavens. "I feel my strength and my resolve waning. Your conviction is what I need most now, that strength of yours that was both admired and envied."

The night answered him with a soft breeze, a tender caress. At the touch, he smiled. "Thank you," he whispered, eyes shining with tears. "Mother."

_"My beautiful boy. Be strong and kind. Meet life's challenges with grace and determination. I love you, so very much and shall be with you always, even if you cannot see me."_

The last words she had spoken to him, her hand on his cheek, wet with tears he rarely shed. Her smile had trembled but had been so very sincere.

Out in the grounds, that was where Ellaria found him. Standing beneath the night sky, looking up at the stars. It made for a tranquil scene, had reality not crushed it. "My lord?" She called softly and smiled softly when he turned.

"Yes?"

Coming to stand beside him, Ellaria continued. "The Palace sent an invitation."

"An invitation?" He echoed softy, to which she nodded.

"Indeed."

"Whatever for?"

Here, Ellaria took a breath and let it out slowly. "Something that is to last for three days. There are to be balls and a contest of skill with the bow."

"How curious," Loki muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Would you happen to know why?"

Ellaria nodded. "The Princess will choose her intended betrothed."

"Is that so?"

The maid hummed in reply before excusing herself back to the kitchens.

Loki did not follow her. He remained where he was. "Did you hear that, mother?" He asked softly. "She is to be married at long last." The stars twinkled as he looked up once more. "Am I fool for hoping?"

"Fools do not hope," Viola said, startling him as she appeared beside him. "And you, young master, are no fool. Anything is possible." She reached out and took hold of his good hand, squeezing it gently.

"Even for me?" He asked, smiling sadly.

"Especially for you," Viola replied. "Now come back inside before they see you."


	9. Errands and apple blossoms

Not a word Viola or any of the servants said made any difference. Hela had made up her mind. He was to go. Six weeks was not all that long to prepare, at least in her mind.

"At least let one of us come accompany you," Viola said as he readied himself to go, being mindful of his hand.

Loki shook his head and smiled. "I cannot allow any of you to be punished for helping me, which is what will happen should they find out."

He was as stubborn as his mother and would not be swayed once a decision had been made. They watched with heavy hearts as he departed, forbidden from riding his horse, he was to walk to the town. The town that was a good five miles away.

"Norns help him," Odelle murmured, shaking her head and earning agreements from all around. The days had once again grown warmer after the too-brief spell of summer rain. Already, not even an hour after sunrise, it was promising to be scorching out of doors.

The walk from the estate to the town was a well known one. Though he was very rarely allowed to traverse it. The towering trees that lined it provided much needed shelter to travelers such as he. Grateful to the water flask he had been pressed to take, he took a deep drink and relished the coolness before setting off at a brisker pace.

The road was far from smooth and kicked up dust as he walked. The list Hela had given him appeared in his mind, as well as the requests of Thor. It had been so long since he had last made a visit to the weapons carpenter and he was almost eager to visit. The visit to the tailors would take the longest.

It was mid morning by the time the town came into view and the Palace just beyond it. As was his luck, the tailors lay on the opposite side of town.

The townspeople greeted him with smiles and polite, friendly greetings. The flower sellers were overflowing with colourful, fragrant blossoms of all kinds and the bakers let forth the welcoming scent of freshly baked goods. The mood in the town was one of joy and anticipation, for the news of the Princess's impending engagement had spread to all peoples. Nobles and commoners alike.

The walk across town was a pleasant one and Loki allowed himself the luxury to take his time. Despite the heat, flowers and rich green foliage grew in abundance and stray petals danced on the warm morning breeze.

Coming at last to the tailors, he laid his good hand on the door and turned the polished, brass handle. It was not the first visit he had made to the tailors since all this had begun. The bells above the door tinkled softly at his entrance, prompting the appearance of a young man, about Loki's age. "Good morning," he greeted, extending a hand, which Loki readily took. "How may I help you?"

And so it began. The recitation of the details Hela had given him regarding her measurements and the styles of the three gowns. Each in different colours, each more extravagant than the last.

"Now, the mention you made about the finishing details on the [second](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/702420873122312158/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) gown," the tailor said, looking down at the notes he had taken.

"The peacock feathers?"

"Yes. Is that to be also carried into the [third](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/655907133212114188/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) gown?"

Loki nodded. "Indeed. Though she wishes for the skirt to covered in its entirety with them."

"I see."

"I sincerely apologise if this makes it more difficult, I-"

"When will you stop apologising for things that are not your fault?" The young tailor interrupted kindly. "After all, this is not your request, but hers. We shall make this work."

Nodding gratefully and promising to come by with the payment, Loki departed. He knew that Hela's requests would raise some eyebrows. Peacocks were a rarity in Asgard, their feathers even more so.

Sighing, he looked in the direction of the carpenter's quarter and set off. The General was very specific in wanting Thor to have a recurve bow made for him. It was one that was not typically used in the army, but was said to be of greater accuracy than the longbows favoured by the army's archers.

Soon the scent of wood and wood oils wafted out to him and made him smile even though he knew that after this errand was completed, there was a complete list of items that were to be purchased before he would make his way home.

"Good morning young man," called the man whose workshop Loki had decided to visit first.

"Good morning," he replied. "Might this be the correct place to inquire after the creation of a bow?"

"Well, that all depends," the carpenter replied as he continued to sand a sturdily built table.

"On what, if I may ask?"

The carpenter chuckled. "On the type. Did you have a specific one in mind?"

"Indeed I do, sir," Loki replied. "My master wishes for one for his son."

"Then why did he not come himself?" The man asked, turning to look at Loki curiously.

"Because he has very little knowledge of the weapon."

"And you?"

"I once owned a very fine one, a recurve of the blackest ebony and inlaid with the wood of the golden oak."

The carpenter smiled and approached him. "A beauty, from the sounds of it."

Loki nodded, pride in his eyes. "That it was, sir."

"Aye, I can make one for your master's son," the carpenter replied. "But tell me, young man. Has he ever handled one?"

"A long time ago."

"Very well, how tall is he?"

"About my height, sir," Loki replied, "a little taller, though."

"And the wood? Was your master specific about what wood he wanted the bow to be of?"

Loki shook his head. "I am sorry, sir. He said nothing of the kind."

"It is no matter, lad," said the carpenter. "He will simply have to be satisfied with the choice I shall make for him."

At this, Loki smiled. "Indeed, sir."

The remainder of the morning was spent flitting from shop to shop, purchasing and striking items off the list. Though as the items grew in number, he discovered that he could not carry them all without the assistance of his injured hand.

Clamping down on his lip and clenching his jaw, Loki adjusted his hold as the last item was acquired. The reaction was instant and he was hard pressed to stay silent as the pain grew sharper with every moment that passed. He could only pray that no one saw the tears in his eyes.

It grew so much that he was forced to set the accumulated items aside and rest for a moment. Cradling his hand in the most discrete manner, he took a series of deep breaths but they did not seem to help. The pain soon dulled to an ache and he could feel his heartbeat calm.

A faint rustle and a whispered curse word were all the warning he received before the speaker stumbled past him. She would have tumbled had his hand not shot out and taken hold, stopping her from kissing the cobblestones.

"Thank you, kind sir."

Why he was sure his heart stopped beating altogether. Letting go, he bowed his head. "Your Highness."

"It is I who should be bowing," she replied, laughing softly. "You have saved me from a rather embarrassing fall and for that, I am eternally grateful."

"I am here to serve, Your Highness," he said, desperately wishing to look up. He had heard a smile in her voice and longed to see it. A gentle touch on his chin prompted his gaze to rise. Yes, she was smiling and it was as beautiful as he remembered.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I mean it."

"Your Highness."

"Your hand," she murmured, reaching out and gently taking a hold of the injured limb. "It is hurt?" Bending her head lightly, she examined it and therefore missed the look in his eyes. Did she not recognise him? A crack formed in his heart at the thought. Was he truly so changed?

"Mistress! There you are, I was beginning to think I had lost you-" Celeste came to a stumbling halt beside them, her eyes wide at the scene. Her lips parted as her eyes met his and recognition bloomed. She looked to the Princess, who only now let his hand go.

"You truly have the gift of timing," Y/N laughed. "I require your assistance, though I believe it would be more accurate to say that this young man is in need of it."

"Your Highness," he protested, bowing. "It is no matter. Please do not trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble," she said. "My duty is to my subjects and you are one of them. Celeste," she said, turning to her astounded maid. "Would you be so kind as to assist him with the transport of his items? His left hand is injured rather terribly."

Blown away by the fact that her mistress clearly did not recognise the man before her, Celeste nodded. "Of course, mistress."

"Excellent," Y/N beamed and clapped her hands. "I shall await your return at the Palace." With those words, she spun on her heels and meandered through the streets at a leisurely pace.

Celeste looked away from her mistress and back to the man beside her. The look in his eyes broke her heart. He was looking after her retreating form, her light coloured [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/362469470013253697/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) trailing after her and as she accepted a crown of flowers from a child. Her soft laughter reached them as the child smiled before skipping off.

Loki felt his heart constrict at the sight. By the stars, she was beautiful. So much more so than he remembered. "Nothing in this entire jeweled city could compare to you," he whispered as he continued to watch her, drinking in the sight of her.

Celeste closed her eyes briefly at his words and sighed softly. Why hadn't Y/N recognised him when it was so glaringly obvious? Shaking her head, she gently nudged his arm. "Shall we?"

Nodding and reluctantly looking away, Loki gathered as much as he could carry. Celeste doing the same and between them, they managed to carry the load.

The silence of the journey home was broken by Celeste. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Pardon?"

Even as they walked, she turned to him. "I know who you are, Loki."

His look of surprise almost made her laugh, had there not been the hint of sadness in those emerald depths. "You do?"

She nodded. "I do and it astounds me that she does not."

His smile resembled the crack in his heart. "There are many faces she must remember, mine is simply one of them."

"That is untrue," Celeste murmured. "Do you know that she now uses a green ribbon to mark her place within a book and no longer the gold she once used? She wears more green now too, more than she ever used to." Here she paused and smiled, albeit sadly. "The gardens she visits have more foliage than flowers."

Loki said nothing in the face of her words. The pain of his hand had dulled in comparison to that which was inflicted upon his heart. "Then why did she not see me?" He asked softly.

"I do not know," Celeste replied, feeling tears prick her eyes. Forcing them back, she looked across to him. "Why did you not say anything, my lord?"

"I am not a lord," he replied. "Not anymore."

"What?" Celeste gasped, "what makes you say that? Of course you are."

Loki shook his head and sighed. "No," he murmured. "No."

As they emerged from the shade of the road, Celeste's attention was caught by a glimmer on his arms. "Those cuffs," she began. "I take it that they're not decorative? They appear too tight to be so."

His silence alarmed her.

"Who did this to you?" She asked, eyes narrowed. When again he didn't answer, she pressed on. "Please, my lord. Who did this to you?"

When at last he answered, it was in a voice that carried more suffering than any one person ought ever to bear. "My family."

"The man your mother married? And his children?" Celeste asked, horrified when he nodded. "Would I be correct in believing that they are the ones responsible for your hand?"

When he said nothing, she had her answer.

"How dare they?" She hissed, furious.

Soon the stately shape of the manor rose before them and Loki turned to her, panic in his eyes. "Pass your load to me."

"What? Why?"

"They will see us any minute, _please_ ," he said, eyes pleading with her.

Celeste became stiff with shock as the situation took hold of her. Was his step-family truly expecting him to work after they had injured him so terribly? Her lack of response allowed Loki to take what she carried. Before she could so much as say another word in protest, he was making his way to the gate that loomed just ahead of them.

Before he stepped past the gate, Loki cast a glance over his shoulder and saw her maid standing there. "Go," he mouthed and nodded to the road that led away from them.

Go she did, stumbling the first few steps for shock. She could only imagine the look on the Princess's face when she would tell her the news.

Y/N did not stay much longer in the markets. The apple blossom crown sat delicately atop her hair and made her smile at the memory of the child's shyness and subsequent joy. Diverting her path, she walked through the royal orchards. The scent of apples and oranges danced through the air.

A flush stained her cheeks as she tripped over a small root, catching herself on the nearest tree. Chuckling to herself, she dusted off her hands. That was twice in one day, though the first involved being saved by a man who bore eyes of such familiarity. Had she looked a moment longer, she might have lost herself in them. Their familiarity tugged at her heartstrings and she shook her head. "No, no," she whispered in spite of her desire for it to be true. That young man, her unnamed hero, bore such a striking resemblance to her Loki. "Dare I dream?" She asked the trees. "Dare I wish that it was he? Despite the truth my heart rejects?"

The trees answered as the wind gently whispered through their leaves. Leaves as green as the eyes of that young man from the market. The next time she would ask his name.


	10. Promises made and memories recalled

Frigga shared a look with Celeste when they saw her. Both Queen and maid watched the Princess as she hummed softly to herself and walked beneath the fruit laden branches of the orchard. The silver circlet she wore glinted softly in the dappled sunlight. They watched as she reached up and plucked, not an apple, but a leaf. The white of her [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-white-cotton-dress-chess-queen) contrasted sharply against the green, making her stand out amongst the fruit trees.

"Just how long has her behavior been like this?" Frigga asked softly.

"About a week now," Celeste replied. "She no longer visits the gardens as frequently as before."

"I wonder why," Frigga murmured, eyes never leaving her daughter.

Silently they watched her from the gallery overlooking the orchard. Bare footed she walked, twirling on occasion and lightly running her hands along the trunks she passed. One of the many birds that frequented the Palace grounds alighted on her shoulder. It was such a little thing, yet she noticed it anyway. They saw her smile, wide and warm.

"Hello there, little one," she said, gently stroking its vivid plumage. "You are one of our songbirds, aren't you?"

The bird chirped as though to answer her, thus eliciting a small giggle from the Princess.

"Would you like to hear a song?" She asked softly, unaware of her audience. "I fear I may not sound as nice as you," she said, winking.

Celeste and Frigga could not quite hear what she had said to the bird, they only saw as she bent close, her lips nearly brushing its feathers. It was not unusual to see the Princess speak with the birds and animals, yet it had been some time since she had last been seen doing it.

It alarmed them greatly when she began to sing, swaying gently at first, before spinning in slow circles, the bird fluttering about above her.

_"Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing sweet nightingale_   
_High above me..."_

The smile on her lips had softened as one hand reached out, the bird settling upon it.

_"Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing sweet_   
_High above_   
_Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing sweet nightingale_   
_High..."  
_

Her unseen audience was spellbound. Celeste felt the beginnings of a smile. Perhaps she had recognised him after all. The Princess had a sweet voice, one that had only ever been heard when he had visited the Palace. His little songbird, that was what he had called her. His beautiful lark and sweet nightingale. Y/N had blushed the first time she had told Celeste of this, but there had been a sparkle in her eyes.

_"Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing sweet nightingale_   
_Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing sweet..."_

Her skirts skimmed the grass and the small flowers that grew at the bases of the trees.

"I had forgotten what a beautiful voice she has," Frigga said, her eyes shimmering. "Grief stole it from her. I can only wonder what gave it back."

Celeste suspected that she knew, and it was with great difficulty that she remained silent on the matter. It was for the Princess to say. She looked from the Queen and back to her mistress. It had felt like ages had passed since she had seen her like this. Happy and carefree.

_"Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Sing_   
_Oh sing sweet nightingale_   
_Oh sing sweet_   
_Oh sing..."_

What they did not hear and did not see was the tremble in her voice as the song faded and the tears in her eyes. Pausing in a patch of sunlight, she cast her eyes up to the sky and let her tears glimmer like crystals as the sun caught on them. "Forever," she whispered. "Forever I shall be your songbird. To sing as you taught me. For too long have I remained silent in my grief. No more." A smile formed behind the tears as she lay a trembling hand over her heart. "I will sing until I see you once again."

The bird had settled itself on her left shoulder and stepped shyly onto her hand. "And you, little one," she said, lightly kissing its head. "Go and fly wherever your wings may take you. Sing your heart out and the realm will be sure to listen." Raising her hand, she watched it fly up and above the trees, the sun catching on its wings.

"Y/N?" The loud call of her name shattered the peace.

Y/N sighed heavily and turned to where the speaker, her father, was coming towards her. "Yes, father?" She replied.

"Must you always go where I cannot find you?" Odin said, looking down at her with poorly disguised disapproval.

"The orchard is hardly a secret place, father," Y/N said, and folded her hands before her. "I have come here before. Many times in fact."

"Watch your tongue, daughter."

"What is it you require of me?" She asked, blinking up at him.

~ ~ ~

He barely heard them. Their reproaches were drowned out by the memory of her smile and the gentle touch of her hand as she had held his. The sensation of her touch remained, it lingered hours after it had happened. Even now, a week later, he could feel it as though she stood right before him.

"Are you even listening?" Hela snapped, clicking her fingers to get his attention.

"Aye, mistress," he replied, inclining his head in a slight bow.

His step-sister eyed him skeptically. Something had changed. Ever since he had returned from the town a week prior. It was far fetched indeed to assume that they had crossed paths. "The great carpet in the entrance hall," she said, "you will clean it and once you have done that, there are the windows, all of them must be washed. But then of course, once you have completed those to satisfaction, there are the numerous tapestries that hang in every hall that must also be cleaned."

Loki felt his eyes widen at the last one. He had finished those a mere few days ago! "Those were completed just a few days ag-"

"Silence," she hissed, eyes narrowed. "You will do them again. And again, and again, until I am satisfied. Then, let us not forget that the front stairs must be scrubbed to perfection, and then there are the halls that must be swept and the hearths must be made spotless."

Closing his eyes, he nodded in defeat. His left hand ached at the mere notion. The work she had just described would take him a good while and slow down the healing of his hand. But perhaps that was what she wanted.

"Go on then," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "There is so much for you to do. Off you go now and remember not to let anyone help you."

Oh how he loathed it when she spoke like that. In silence, he watched her go. Gliding down the hall, her gown slithering along behind her, her dark head held high. He knew that so long as she lived, he would not be free of her, she delighted in his misery and suffering and forbade all that made him smile.

But what she did not know, she could not take away.

Not once had he spoken of what had occurred in the town, not even to Viola. It was his precious secret, as bittersweet as it was. He had seen her again, heard her voice and that was more than he might ever have hoped for. Simply being near her again was as though he had discovered an oasis after a lifetime in the desert. He was sure she had allowed a little of her seidr into his hand that day, for though it still ached, it was by far less.

His heart warmed at the thought. Though it was clear she did not recognise him, she had helped him still. It was that that made the people love her so. Her innate desire to aid and assist even those that were far below her.

Her e/c eyes had been kind, as he remembered them always to be. Never had he seen malice taint those gentle, enchanting depths.

In that moment, one thing became very clear. He loved her and would always love her, even if they were to never cross paths again and she were to be bound to another. He would love her from afar, from the distance set between them by circumstance. He would protect her from the General and his insidious intentions as well as he could.

Beneath him, the carpet was rough, nowhere near as soft as it had been the day his mother brought it home. The bright colours had faded over time and the passage of those that lived in the manor. A number of new callouses broke open as he worked and marred his hands further. They had never held the softness of nobility, having worked around the manor since he was old enough to help.

_"How will you know how to manage the estate, if you are not familiar with even the smallest of its workings?"_ His mother had led by example and the two of them had often worked side by side.

Y/N had taken note of his hands and the roughness of them. To her they were a mark of pride, a badge of honour. They were the mark of a man who took pride in caring for the land and wealth he had been given.

He had been proud of them once. But not now, not now as they bled and were broken by those who held no regard for their good fortunes. Pausing in his task for a moment, he lifted his right hand and observed how it shook lightly from how tightly he had gripped the brush. His nails were short and chipped, the skin beneath them red and raw.

Sighing, he continued and it was not until he felt the heat of the setting sun on his back that he knew he would be working through the night. The carpet would be cleaned before any sleep could be afforded.

The clomping of Thor's footsteps made him groan. If that oaf set foot on this carpet with those filthy boots...

Loki thanked the stars when the main doors did not open and Thor's booming voice could be heard by the manor's back entrance. What exactly he was saying remained a mystery but Loki knew it no doubt had something to do with the rigorous training the General commanded him to do. A wistful sigh escaped him. If only he had been permitted to partake in this contest, every waking hour would have been dedicated to perfecting his aim.

The bow he had once used had been given to him by his mother. She had told him that it had belonged to his father, that he had had it fashioned specifically for his tastes and ability. His mother would tell him stories of his father and his time as the most skilled archer in the Allfather's army.

Shaking his head, he returned to his work. There would be hel to pay should one of them catch him resting for even a moment.

The evening meal came and went and not a glance was spared in his direction by either of the siblings. The General had thankfully returned to the Palace, allowing the staff to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

When at last, the carpet was completed, the candles in the sconces had burnt low and the realm beyond the windows had fallen into the embrace of night. With a soft groan, Loki pushed himself to his feet, wincing as feeling returned to his knees.

With bucket and broom in hand, he slowly made his way to the kitchens. Setting the broom against the wall, he tossed the soiled water into the garden just outside the kitchen. The fire in the hearth still burnt and beckoned to him. Sinking to his knees before the flames, he sat down and folded his legs beneath him. The flames danced before him in hues of orange and yellow. The stone before the hearth was warm and comforted the ache in his knees.

Curling up on his side, he lay down by the fire. The warmth embraced him, curling around him as his mother's arms had often done. His eyes had long since dropped closed by the time the fire had been reduced to embers that glowed gently and softly illuminated his sleeping features and the few flakes of ash that had settled on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song "Sing Sweet Nightingale" was taken from the 1950s adaption of Cinderella, as were a select few of the lines spoken by Hela.


	11. Dare to dream...

The windows were numerous, some even being taller than he. Loki knew well that the heat of the day would have them drying faster than he could wash them. Streaks would be left and it would be the lash for him. Hela had already made it clear that he was not to receive any assistance or food until all his tasks were completed.

The morning sun greeted him as he worked. It would take him all of that day to have the windows cleaned to satisfaction and he had risen well before the sun poked its head over the horizon. Many of the household staff still slept as he made his way from room to room, bucket and rags in hand. Any of those he did encounter said nothing, simply nodding in greeting and casting sympathetic glances his way.

He had made an excellent start on the drawing room windows by the time he heard it. "LOKI!"

Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment. He had been a fool to believe that they would let him alone to complete the list of tasks he had been given. Picking up his bucket, he made his way down to the kitchens where the bells were ringing so hard he feared they would come off the wall.

"LOKI!"

"Take these," Ellaria muttered, passing him two trays of breakfasts as she took the bucket from him. "You had better get going."

Nodding mutely, Loki took the trays and expertly balanced them as he ascended the stairs. The moment he disappeared, Ellaria turned to Viola. "Did you see what I did?"

The cook nodded, her eyes on the stairwell. "Aye," she replied. "I would be surprised if he only got a few hours of sleep."

"He looked dead on his feet," Ellaria said, shaking her head. "It is truly appalling as to how they are treating him. I thank the Norns that the General isn't here."

"I agree with you, lass," Viola muttered. "Tonight be sure to leave some food for him, I do not believe he ate at all yesterday."

Ellaria nodded and returned to her task. All the staff knew of Hela's orders and the punishment that would come should she be disobeyed. Ellaria could not find it within herself to let her friend starve.

Hela was to have her breakfast served first, Loki knew this, or she would find yet another reason to make his life a living hel. Tapping her doors lightly with his foot, he heard her call and pushed open the doors.

The woman had not yet risen and eyed him with contempt as he settled her tray on her lap. The absence of the weight on his left hand gave him only momentary relief, for Hela soon took hold of it and squeezed ever so slightly. A smirk pulled at her lips as he winced at the pain that shot through his hand.

"Do not forget the laundry," she purred, still holding his hand. "Does it hurt when I do this?" She asked, squeezing a fraction harder.

Though he felt tears burn behind his eyes, Loki shook his head, his expression carefully schooled. "No, mistress."

"You ought to know by now that you needn't lie to me," she replied and let go of his hand as though it had burnt her. "Collect the laundry and the mending on your way out, I expect them to be done within the hour, you hear me?"

Opting to stay silent, he merely nodded and collected the aforementioned items before leaving her rooms.

Thor was still sleeping when Loki slipped into his rooms. Leaving the tray on table by the foot of the bed, he crept out, breathing a small sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. Taking hold of Hela's items with his good hand, he made his way to the laundry. It seemed that the windows would have to wait just a little longer. Now he knew for certain that he would be working well into the night.

The laundry was empty and afforded him the peace and quiet he needed. Immediately, he set about filling the large washing tub with lukewarm water. Taking a deep breath, he undid the immaculately done bandages and gently slid his hand into the warm water. The tears he had been holding back, now broke free at the sheer relief the warmth provided. Through the water he could see the bruising that was only now beginning to show signs of fading. Swallowing hard, he attempted to move the fingers and bit back a soft whimper at the pain.

Retracting his hand, he dried it as best he could before wrapping the bandages back around. It was a clumsy job at best, but they offered the support his hand needed.

It was truly a challenge, washing clothes with one hand. As time passed, he eventually gave up and plunged his left hand in. The bandages were soaked within seconds. The warm water helped to ease the pain of using the hand. Viola would give him a tongue lashing if she found out what he was doing. He smiled at the thought of the woman. She had only ever sought to help him since his mother's death.

To hang the washing proved to be yet another challenge and he knew that in the day's heat, it would not be long before the fabrics were dried through.

Escaping at last back into the shade of the manor, he set about leaving the laundry room as he had found it and set about completing the mountain range of mending. It ranged from blouses, to skirts and to gowns. How she managed to ruin her clothing to such extents, it was truly beyond him.

Loki estimated he was almost halfway done when the peace and quiet of the laundry was shattered by the sound of his name being thundered through the manor. "LOKI!"

It was not Hela this time, but Thor. Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, he let his shoulders slump for a moment before setting the mending aside and making for the stairs. The call had come from Thor's chambers and Loki could only guess what this could be about.

Upon entering, he had only a second to duck out of the way before a plate was thrown his way. "You called?" He asked, head bowed.

"My breakfast," Thor snarled. "It is cold. How dare you bring me cold breakfast?"

Biting his lip, Loki fought back a retort. _'Maybe if you didn't spend the day sleeping...?'_

"Apologies," he replied instead. "Shall I fetch you another?"

"What do you think?" Thor snapped. "Now take this away and be quick about it."

Nodding, Loki darted to the bed and swept up the tray that was largely untouched, sans the now broken plate that lay in pieces by the door.

The kitchens were as warm as the day outside. Those that saw the tray he carried rolled their eyes. They had undoubtedly heard the crash from upstairs. "Wake up late again did he?" Asked Emaya, one of the kitchen maids.

Loki smirked and nodded. "Just before midday, so it is early for him."

Emaya giggled and took the tray from him. "I will have something ready in just a moment."

"What in Queen Frigga's name do you call that?" Viola asked, popping up beside him, his roughly re-bandaged hand in one of hers.

Loki shrugged. "I took them off for a moment."

"Now why would you do something like that?" The cook demanded, her violet eyes hard.

"I couldn't very well go and get it wet while doing the laundry, now could I?" He asked, meeting her gaze.

"And why in the Nine would you be doing the laundry when you have so much else to be getting on with?"

"Take a guess," he muttered in reply, wincing as Viola deftly undid the wrap of bandages and re-secured them.

"There we go," she murmured once she was done. "Now, that crash I'm sure the whole estate heard, was that him?"

Loki nodded, taking the newly prepared breakfast from Emaya and flashing a grateful smile her way before turning and sweeping out of the kitchens. Viola shook her head as she watched him go. Thor was no better than a child at times. What the General was thinking when making him the heir to the estate, Viola shuddered to think.

~ ~ ~

"Cathán? Are you in here?" Celeste called out as she entered the armoury. She knew of no other place he would be, but one could never know for sure. 

"Where else would I be?" Came the reply and Celeste giggled softly, stepping further in and closing the door behind her. The moment the door closed, the tall form of the weapons master emerged.

"I didn't want to assume," she replied and crossed her arms as he stepped closer.

"It has been quite some time since I have last seen you here," Cathán replied, his good eye meeting her own hazel ones.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. "It has only been three days," she remarked, the corner of her mouth twitching as she fought a smirk.

"It has felt like three years," he murmured, reaching out and tentatively tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering for a moment longer than strictly necessary. 

Celeste felt the customary blush begin to rise as she smiled shyly in return. "Well," she said, coughing to clear her throat and ease the tension between them. "Her Highness likes to keep me busy."

Cathán chuckled at her words, the low sound echoing faintly through the room. "Yes indeed," he replied, motioning for her to follow him as he made his way to the back of the armoury. "Now, did she send you? Or are you here of your own volition?"

"Her Highness has no knowledge of my being here," Celeste replied, a little too quickly for her liking.

"Is that so?" He looked positively roguish in the dim light of the torches. His smile made her knees threaten to give out the longer she looked up at him. 

"Indeed," she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. Whenever he smiled, his dark eyepatch was brought into sharp relief. It truly was a miracle that she had managed to string a response together.

"So," he said, turning to properly face her. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," she replied, licking her lips. "I am actually not here for me, per se."

"So she _did_ send you?" Cathán asked.

Celeste shook her head. "No. She did not. There is something I must tell you and it concerns her. But you must swear to keep it secret. Can you do that?"

Cathán raised a steely eyebrow at her words but nodded. "I swear it."

"Alright, well," suddenly, she did not know how to say it. Ever since that day, she had kept who she had seen to herself. She had not spoken to Y/N for fear of a reprimand. "Do you remember what I told you, two years ago?"

"You have told me a number of things two years ago," he replied, "to which one are you specifically referring?"

"The one concerning Lady Farbáuti's son."

Oh yes. That he did remember. Celeste had come running to him, visibly distraught. The news had been a shock to him. He nodded. "I remember."

"Well," Celeste continued, twisting her hands together. "The thing is, I saw him."

Cathán's eye widened at her words. "You what?"

"I know it sounds mad," Celeste said quickly."But you must believe me, it was him. His eyes, his hair, his voice. It was him."

"If what you say is true," he said, "then have you told the Princess?"

Celeste shook her head. "I dare not and besides, she saw him too."

"Did she now?"

The maid nodded.

"Then why do you look so sad?" Cathán asked, resisting the urge to lift her chin so their eyes might meet.

"Because she did not seem to know who he was, at least at first."

"What do you mean by that?"

Her look of sadness disappeared in the wake of a bright smile. "I have very good reason to believe that she did indeed know who he was, only that the realisation came later."

"Are you certain? It would be most dangerous to assume such a thing without meritable proof."

"I heard and saw her sing," Celeste replied confidently. "Something she has not done since she received the news. Is it pure coincidence that she should revive such a habit on the day we meet someone that could be his twin? She recognised him, Cathán. I am sure of it."

"Have you spoke to her of it yet?" He pressed.

Celeste shook her head. "Not as yet. I have not yet built up the courage to do so. But I shall endeavor to do so tonight before I retire."

"Good thinking," he murmured, smiling softly.

Rising to her tiptoes, she pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek and smiling shyly before slipping from the room.

Evening came quickly and soon Celeste found herself dressing the Princess in an elegant [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/lady-rowena-exclusive-velvet-embroideded-medieval-dress) of lilac velvet. Her hair, she left loose and lightly curled.

"Is anything the matter?" Y/N asked, rising from her vanity stool. "You seem a little on edge."

Celeste shook her head. "Everything is as it should be, mistress."

Humming in response, Y/N gave herself a final once over in the mirror before departing.

The moment she left, Celeste sagged against one of the bed posts. This was proving to be harder than she initially believed. The Princess would surely be overjoyed and brimming to tell Celeste.

Choosing to occupy her hands while her mind ran wild, Celeste set about preparing the room for her mistress's return. Her hands lingered for a moment over the book on the nightstand. Between its pages, a green ribbon caught her eye and demanded her attention. "She knows," she whispered to herself. "It will be alright. She knows."

When the evening meal had concluded and Y/N reentered, Celeste knew that now was the moment. It was now or she might never get the chance again. "How was it, mistress?"

Y/N smiled wearily at her maid. "Oh you know how it goes," she replied, motioning her over to unlace the gown. "My father droned on and on and soon I forgot what he was talking about all together."

Celeste stifled a giggle as she finished unlacing the gown and gently pulled it off the Princess. Laying the garment on the bed, she quickly retrieved her nightgown.

Dressed once more, Y/N sat before her mirror and sighed blissfully as Celeste methodically brushed her hair. "If you keep going like that," she murmured sleepily, "I may fall asleep right here."

"Then I had better stop." With those words, she paused.

Y/N's eyes flashed open as she grinned at her maid through the mirror. "Don't you dare." Her eyes closed again as Celeste resumed.

"Mistress?"

She hummed softly by way of reply.

"There is something I must tell you, but it is of a personal nature."

The Princess smiled softly, yet her eyes remained closed. "You can tell me anything, dear girl. You know that."

"Do you remember when we went into town just last week?"

Y/N nodded. "Of course I do, why do you ask?"

"Do you remember who we saw?" She asked softly, eyeing her mistress through the mirror.

Y/N paused before answering, a sad smile curving her lips. "Of course I do," she whispered. "How could I possibly forget? I am so glad you agreed to help him, the poor man was evidently in a lot of pain."

"You mean-" Celeste stopped with the brush. "You mean you didn't recognise him?"

Y/N's eyes opened as she turned bodily to face her maid. "Recognise who?" She asked.

Celeste smiled. "The Lord Loki, of course."

"What did you just say?" The Princess asked softly, eyes boring into Celeste's own. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

Her reaction confused the maid. "I knew right away," she replied. "When I saw you speaking with him."

Standing, Y/N clenched her jaw and made her way to her bed. Her chest heaved when she rounded on her. Her e/c eyes were filled with such pain and anger. "You would dare to speak of him so?" She whispered, startling Celeste.

"Mistress?"

"You would dare to speak to me, of him, as though he were alive?" She snapped, hands curling into fists at her sides. "You know better than most what agony it causes me. You know better than most how I fight for control whenever I hear his name being so much as whispered in passing." Angry tears spilled from her eyes a she glared at her maid. "Was it not enough that that young man should bear such a resemblance? How often must I be reminded that he is dead?"

"Highness-"

"No," Y/N cut her off harshly. "You do not get to speak to me. Not after this." She shook her head and stepped backwards. "For two years I have grappled with that horrid truth and no matter how many times I wish it, or dream it, it will not change. I will not have you speaking to me with such lies. No matter how much I long for them to be true-" her words and composure were soon drowned in tears as her legs folded beneath her.

For the first time in her service to the Princess, Celeste did not know what to do.

"Leave," Y/N bit out, looking up at her maid with tear stained cheeks. When Celeste did not move, she narrowed her eyes. _"Leave,"_ she hissed. "Or I will make you."

A faint glow surrounded the Princess's fingers and Celeste was horrified to learn that she was afraid of her. Never had Y/N threatened her before, or even brought her seidr to bear against her. Stumbling, she left the chambers.

Even from behind the closed doors, she heard it. A whimper of pain that sounded an awful lot like a name. "Oh Loki. My love." The sound of quiet sobs soon followed.

The sheer emotion behind those words brought tears to Celeste's eyes. She had been wrong then and in so, had caused her beloved mistress pain.


	12. Confusion and curiosity

She knew but one thing. She had to leave and go beyond the Palace walls. The sunset fabric of her [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/611434086900685881/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) fluttered and floated behind her as she swiftly made her way to the stables. She had sent word during the morning meal that her horse was to be saddled and bridled.

She needed to leave. She needed to get out.

Servants and guards bowed as she passed, the trailing ends of her gown brushing lightly against the walls. She was pleased to find her steed ready and waiting for her. Waiting not even a moment, she took hold of the reins and vaulted up into the saddle. What she wore was not at all suited to horseback riding. Thanking the stable hands, she guided the horse out of the vicinity of the stable yard and urged her mount into a gallop, taking all those she passed by surprise.

Bent low, Y/N felt the wind rake through her hair, creating tangles and knots that would be sorted out later. It had been far too long since she had done this.

"Your Highness! Wait!"

Pulling on the reins, she looked over her shoulder, only to see Celeste running out to meet her. Clenching her jaw, she hardened her eyes and turned back around. "Go," she whispered to the horse and kicked lightly with her heels, spurring the animal on.

Celeste's cries and entreaties faded behind her. She did not see the defeated set of her shoulders or the way she cast her eyes to the sky as she silently prayed for her mistress's safety. She did not know that the next words on the maid's tongue had been those of apology, nor did she care for what her maid had to say. She knew she was being cold, but she needed to be, she needed a shield to keep the pain from spilling over.

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the reins, her manicured nails digging into her palms. It was not long before she felt the sun's kiss on her shoulders and back. Even more so when she directed her horse out from beneath the towering trees and into the grass fields that surrounded the town. She needed the sun, she needed the air, she needed life.

On either side, the trees and grass became mere blurs.

_"You mean you didn't recognise him?"_

Shaking her head, she willed the memory of the night before to leave. She wished for the voice to go away.

_"The Lord Loki, of course."_

Tears burned behind her eyes and she clenched her jaw tighter, to the point of pain. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. How often had she been told to live in the present and focus on the future? How often had she been accused of living too much in the past?

So focused was she on ridding herself of her maid's words, that she did not see where she was.

There was one that did.

On a whim, Hela had taken it upon herself to go outside. Though the heat bothered her, she quickly sought the shade of the nearest tree. It would not do for the sun to add any colour to her skin, what would her father say?!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A flash of colour and heard the faint pounding of horse's hooves. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound. A rider was passing them by and was attired in something that should most definitely not be worn when riding.

There was only one person would wear such a thing for such an activity. "Princess?" She called out, raising a hand to better catch her attention. For a brief moment she believed the woman had not heard her.

The sound of her title being called drew her attention. Pulling firmly on the reins, she looked around and saw, not too far from she was, a large house. A manor of sorts. Its shape and size seemed vaguely familiar. Squinting, she saw a figure with a raised arm. The one that had called to her, no doubt.

Shrugging and needing the distraction, she guided her horse back in the direction they had come. Her lips curled in distaste as she drew nearer and the identity of the caller became clear. Schooling her features into a polite smile, she dismounted a short distance away and proceeded to walk the short distance.

Hela watched as she came closer. The sheer fabric of her gown moved around her as though it had a mind of its own. The colourwork was breathtaking and reminded a reluctant Hela of a sunset. "Your Highness," she greeted, sinking into a curtsy.

Y/N smiled and nodded politely. "Lady Hela."

"What brings you out so far from the Palace, Your Highness?" Hela asked, folding her hands before her.

The Princess sighed and chose her next words with great care. "The need to clear my mind. A task such as that cannot be accomplished within the confines of the Palace halls."

"Indeed, Highness," Hela murmured. "Shall we retire to the house? We are no short distance from the Palace, no doubt you are in need of some rest before returning?"

"I suppose you are right," Y/N replied. She could feel the sweat begin to travel down the back of neck and along her spine. How she wished she had a ribbon to tie her hair with, for that too was beginning to stick to the back of her neck.

As Hela went about calling for a servant to take her horse to the stables, Y/N glanced about. The estate grounds were filled to the brim with luscious green plants and fragrant flowers. Flourishing ivy crept along a portion of the manor walls. As she continued her observation, she sighed in sweet relief as a breeze passed through, cooling her and lifting her hair from her neck. Closing her eyes, she smiled softly and inhaled the warm, fragrant air.

From behind her closed lids she did not see him. Her sole audience. He had been finishing the windows in the music room when he had heard Hela's call. Looking down, he saw her, he heard her as she spoke with Hela.

"Y/N," he whispered, eyes never leaving her. Her loose, unstyled hair, hung tangled around her shoulders and lightly flushed face. Even so disheveled she was beautiful. As beautiful as the sunset she wore. A gown for the summer, the colours suited her. When Hela left, he dared to take a step closer to the newly cleaned window. Though she could not see him, Loki smiled. It was a small one, yet filled with tenderness as his eyes followed her movements. Uncaring of the mark it would leave on the glass, he lifted a hand and laid it against the window. She was such a short distance away and yet, it was as though realms divided them.

"Look up," he said softly, entreatingly. "Look up, my darling."

Before his wish could be granted, Hela reappeared. Yet, he did not move. He could not.

"Shall we, Your Highness?" He heard her say and saw as she gestured toward the house.

Y/N said nothing, but smiled graciously and went ahead of Hela.

The sounds of their entrance floated up to him and drew him to them. Keeping to the shadows, he followed them as they entered the drawing room. Hela, it seemed, had wanted to impress her unexpected royal guest. A spread of summer fruits had been laid out on the table between them.

Not even his hunger could distract him from her. His growling stomach remained silent as he watched her, the smile never leaving. Had she turned to look over her shoulder, she would have seen him, gazing at her with such indescribable longing. Never had he felt further from her than he did in that moment.

The sunset hues of her gown pooled around her, allowing her form to be surrounded by soft oranges and light blues.

The words of their conversation faded as he watched from the shadows. Hela had given the Princess a ribbon with which to tie back her hair. A few strands had escaped and framed her face.

It wasn't until she made to rise, that he retreated, narrowly avoiding his step-sister's searching eye.

"I really must be going," Y/N was saying. "My father will undoubtedly send out a search party if I do not return soon."

Hurrying back to the music room, he watched her step outside, squinting in the light of the sun, one hand raised to better shield her eyes. Hela stood beside her, having summoned a servant to bring the Princess's horse.

"I thank you for your hospitality," Y/N said, taking hold of her horse's bridle. "It was indeed foolish of me to leave the Palace so ill prepared."

"Think nothing of it, Your Highness," Hela replied. "One cannot begrudge you a moment of freedom, can they?"

"No," Y/N said, smiling. "No they cannot and I apologise if my visit disturbed your staff in their duties. It was not my intention."

"They are honoured by your visit," Hela said, eyes drifting first to the kitchen door that stood slightly ajar and then, to the windows. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him and smiled nastily when he ducked from view.

Curious, the Princess followed her gaze. "Is anything the matter, my lady?"

"No, no," Hela replied, a little too quickly. "Only a servant that was watching us instead of completing his work."

At this, Y/N laughed softly. "His curiosity is understandable, my lady. It is not often I visit the houses of nobility, at least not as often as I once did."

Her words reached him where he crouched beneath the window.

"My visit was unplanned," she continued. "A little confusion and curiosity is to be expected."

"Nevertheless," Hela said, folding her arms. "It will not do for the manor to fall into disrepair because of one servant's need to eavesdrop." 

Y/N sighed and shook her head before mounting up. "Far be it for me to instruct you on how to manage your own home," she relented, hating the words as she said them.

"I thank you, Your Highness," Hela replied, bowing.

Nodding once, Y/N wordlessly encouraged her horse to walk. She did not so much as turn to offer a wave, the sooner she was gone, the better.

Tossing aside the bow impatiently, Thor glared at the targets before him. Not once had he made the centre. Wiping a hand across his forehead and into his hair, Thor squinted up at the sun and saw that it was nearing midday.

Stripping off his upper tunic as he neared the house, he decided that a cold bath was in order. "LOKI!"

Y/N almost fell from her horse. She had left the estate behind, and yet still she heard it. Loud, clear and demanding. Her heart hammered in her chest and she swallowed hard. "Did you hear that?" She whispered to the horse, who nickered softly in response. "I know _I_ heard it," she muttered, looking over her shoulder.

She did not know how long she sat there, but she did not hear it again. No matter how she strained her ears. Adjusting her grip on the reins, she took a deep, albeit trembling breath. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead amidst her horse's dark mane. "I cannot have imagined it," she murmured. "It sounded so real."

But the sound of his name did not come again, at least, not when she was in earshot. Thor was as impatient as ever and the heat was not helping. The bath could not be filled fast enough. When at last he sank into the cold water and Loki had been dismissed, it was Hela that stepped into the room.

"How could you have been so stupid?" She seethed.

"Clarification is required, dear sister, if I am to answer your question," Thor drawled.

"The Princess was here today," she hissed. "She had only just departed when you called for him."

"How was I to know?" Thor asked, crossing his arms in the water. "I was in the field, training as father requested."

"You had better hope she didn't hear you," Hela muttered, already making for the door.

"And if she did?"

"Then," Hela said, turning to face her brother. "I am sure we can expect another visit. Only this time, we will be prepared."

Hurrying away from the doors, Loki made his way back to where Hela would no doubt expect him to be. He had never thought to thank the fates for Thor's thunderous bellows of his name. Would they, at long last, show him mercy and grant him this simple wish? That she had heard the call and that her curiosity would lead her back their way.

If only it had been curiosity that now plagued the Princess's reeling mind. First Celeste, now this? Having made straight for the rock pools, she sealed the door and stripped down. The cool water greeted her and she relished the relief it gave her. Looking up at the natural rock ceiling as she floated on her back, she began to think. Dangerous thoughts materialised and she was quick to push them away.

Grief was a powerful thing and if not handled with care, it was more than capable of driving its victims to madness. Y/N could only pray that her mind would not rebel against her, even though she knew that perhaps, it was too late for that.


	13. I feel you all around me

The last time they had so much as exchanged words was a little over two weeks ago now. The Princess did not so much as look in her direction anymore, her attention completely taken by something else entirely. Her eyes, usually so clear and focused, had taken on a glaze that worried Celeste more than the cold shoulder she was receiving.

Today was no different. Celeste had spied her breaking her fast alongside her mother in her private chambers and while she had smiled and laughed and spoken avidly of her excitement of the upcoming tournament, there was an undeniable edge to it all. It was as though Her Highness was on edge and Celeste was convinced that the Queen had taken note of it.

Y/N had brushed past Celeste has she left the solar, the maid bowing and quickly following behind. "Your Highness?" She asked in a small voice.

No answer.

"Your Highness?" She tried again, her voice slightly louder. Perhaps Y/N had not heard her the first time.

Once again, silence. The Princess walked ahead of her, giving no sign that she had heard the address.

"Mistress, _please."_

So suddenly did Y/N stop that Celeste very nearly collided with her back. But the Princess did not turn, she merely took a breath and looked to the side, gracing the maid with her profile. "What?" She asked, her voice soft and bearing the unmistakable tinge of the weary. She was tired and it was not yet mid-morning.

"Mistress," Celeste began, twisting her hands as the nerves began to rise. So many times she had played out the situation in her head. "I simply wish to apologise," she continued, eyes cast down. "It was not my intention to bring you pain."

Nodding, the Princess sighed and briefly closed her eyes. "I know," she murmured. "I know." With those words, she began to walk again.

Though her jaw moved, no words came out as she stayed where she was for a split second before tearing off after the Princess. Stumbling in her haste, she threw herself down on her knees before her, her hands clasped together over her heart, her eyes looking up and pleading. "Dare I ask for forgiveness, mistress?" She asked, nay, she begged. "Never in my life would I ever want to hurt you. Please, you must believe me."

Y/N looked down at her maid and smiled sadly. "If only it were that easy," she replied. "For two years you have urged me to move on and not to let the past drown what future I could still have."

Celeste merely nodded and bowed her head, not wanting the Princess to see her tears. What she had said was true. Celeste _had_ said those things to her.

"I am not persuaded easily," Y/N continued. "But when I am, it is with good reason. You know that. I know you did not mean to cause me harm, but you did. That is something I cannot let go of all too easily. In this short time, my pain has hardened into a shell that protected the most vulnerable part of me. My heart. It has been that part of me that I have been fighting to protect since his death. It is a wound that will never close, no matter how much time passes. It will only get bigger. It will only hurt more, so you must give me this time. This time to allow me to even try and rebuild that shield your words tore down."

Celeste said nothing. There was pain in the words spoken to her.

"Can you understand that I cannot forgive you?" Y/N said, laying a gentle hand atop Celeste's head. "At least not yet. My mind is plagued and my soul is tormented. I wish to the Norns that you will never suffer such a thing."

Looking up only when she heard the Princess move away, Celeste saw the soft morning sun catch on the armoured embellishments of her [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/451485931372242705/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ). The light fabric billowed out lightly as she walked, her sandaled feet making hardly a sound on the polished marble floors.

Rising to her feet and brushing off her own [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/796503884088209142/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ), Celeste knew that following her was not an option, for she had very quickly disappeared down the hall. There was but one other person that she just might be able to speak to. His lecture on the other hand, she was decidedly not prepared for.

The armoury was located on the Palace's eastern side, the exact opposite of where she now was.

Cathán was nowhere to be seen as she entered the room at last. No matter how many times she called and whispered his name. He did not answer, not did he make an appearance. Huffing with irritation, Celeste abandoned the armoury.

Was it possible that he had heard of the Princess's reaction? Had word reached him of what Celeste had done? Was he too, giving her the treatment of silence?

Lost in the confusion of her thoughts, Celeste did not see where she had unwittingly ended up. The warmth of the sun brushed up against her exposed arms as she blinked and looked around. The sounds of training caught her attention and made her sigh and shake her head. Of all the places to be, why was she at the training grounds? Her eyes searched, but could not find the telltale form of the Princess.

"The Princess is not here," said a familiar voice, shaking her from her observation. Looking toward the speaker, she smiled.

"There you are," she said, folding her arms across her chest and attempting a glare.

"Here I am," Cathán replied, winking with his good eye. "But as I said, Her Highness is not here."

Celeste nodded and ran a hand over her hair, the stray strands smoothing back. "It is you I was searching for," she explained.

"Were you now?" He teased, leaning against the pommel of his great-sword, the tip of the blade lightly lodged in the soft sand of the training grounds.

"Yes," she replied, leveling her gaze with his. "There is something I must tell you and I am sorry to say that it is not of a pleasant nature."

"Do tell," he said, intrigued.

"Remember how I was planning on speaking with Her Highness about _that_ matter?"

Cathán nodded and hummed softly in answer.

"Well, I did."

"And?" He pressed, curious. "How did it go? Were you correct in your theory?"

Celeste said nothing and shook her head. The look in her eyes told the weapons master all he needed to know.

"Oh my little star," he murmured, shaking his head. "I did warn you, did I not?"

The nickname was not lost on her. "You did," she whispered, looking anywhere but at him. "But I was so sure and now I do not know what to do," she said, twisting her hands together.

"Have you attempted an apology?"

The maid nodded. "I did so, before I came looking for you."

"Well?"

"I know not whether she accepted it or not," Celeste replied. "But she seemed to acknowledge it, at the very least."

"That is a start," Cathán said, reaching out and clasping her smaller hands in his. "Her Highness has been dealt a heavy blow. What has taken her two years to accept has been shattered in not even an hour. She will give her forgiveness, but I suspect, only when she is strong enough to do so."

Celeste smiled at his words and tightened her grip on his hands.

"You will see," he continued, rubbing small circles on the backs of her hands with his thumb. "You know her well, better than any of the staff. Better than anyone, I'd wager," he added with a grin. "Give her the time and space she needs. Go about your duties as you have always done. She knows now that you are contrite and in time, Norns willing, she will come to see that you spoke the truth."

~ ~ ~

Just where her daughter had gotten to, Frigga had no idea.

The library and the rock pools both bore no signs of the Princess having set foot there. Never had the Palace felt so large and the corridors so endless and maze-like. Each room she inspected was void of the very person she was searching for.

The gardens too were abandoned by the absent Princess. Even those that bore bubbling fountains of crystal-clear water and twittering birds. "Where are you?" She murmured, absently allowing her hand to brush along the hedge she was passing. Her eyes then lit up as a thought came to her. The orchard! Why of course.

She received no such luck. The vast, sprawling royal orchards did not hold her wayward daughter. Y/N had always had a love for nature, one that had only ever been equaled by her adoration of the written word.

On her own, Frigga knew that she would not receive the answers she needed. She hoped that, at the very least, one of the maids or footmen, or even a guard knew of her whereabouts. Turning on her heels, she swept back into the palace and approached the first maid she saw.

"Your Majesty," the maid greeted, bobbing a curtsy.

"I shall be quick," Frigga said, "for I am sure you have more than enough to do today."

"Majesty."

"Have you, by any chance, seen Her Highness?"

The maid thought for a moment and gave Frigga a faint sense of hope that she may finally have a lead. That hope was dashed as the maid shook her head. "I am sorry, Your Majesty. But I have not seen Her Highness today, if at all."

Humming softly and dismissing the maid, Frigga moved along the corridors. It would take more than a few hours to question the entire chamber and kitchen staff. It was time she did not have. Briefly she entertained the notion of employing the use of a tracking spell, that thought was quickly dismissed as she spied a footman stand to attention at the corridor's end.

As soon as he saw who was approaching, the footman bowed. "Your Majesty."

"I shall be brief," Frigga replied, "has Her Highness crossed paths with you today?"

As with the maid, the footman thought for a moment and Frigga was hard pressed not to give rise to the hope welling up within her. "I must apologise, Your Majesty," the footman said, much like the maid, "but our paths have not crossed, I do not believe she even passed this way."

Upon thanking the footman, Frigga became confused.

Maid after maid, she questioned. Footman after footman, even the occasional guard, but no such luck. It was becoming worrisome, it was not in Y/N's character to disappear without a trace, even if she was upset, someone _always_ knew where she was.

Passing through the galleries overlooking the training grounds, Frigga knew better than to hope she would find her daughter there. Who she did find there however, was someone she was certain that knew where Y/N had run off to.

"Celeste?" She called out, catching the maid's attention, as well that of the man she was speaking to.

She waited patiently as the maid excused herself from her present company and approached the Queen, curtsying low. "Your Majesty."

Frigga smiled down at the maid. "Rise, dear girl. I have but a simple request."

Folding her hands before her, Celeste waited in silence, she dared not look up.

"I have searched high and low, but I cannot seem locate Y/N," the Queen explained. "Might you know where she is?"

Celeste took a breath and exhaling as steadily as she could before shaking her head. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, I do not."

"How is that possible?" Frigga murmured. "Did she not inform you of where she might spend the day?"

Celeste shook her head once more. "No, Your Majesty."

"How very peculiar. Tell me," she said, "did she say anything, anything at all that might allude to where she is?"

"No, Your Majesty," Celeste replied. "She said not a word of it."

Frigga frowned at her words. "Celeste? Has something happened that I should know of? Anything that might pertain to this strange behaviour?"

Celeste suspected that she knew exactly of what the Queen spoke. Oh yes, something had happened indeed, but was it her place to say? Was it not more appropriate for Y/N to tell her mother such a thing?

"You know something, don't you?" Frigga asked, stepping closer.

"It is not my place to say," Celeste replied softly. "It is for Her Highness to tell you."

"I cannot, at present, seem to find her," Frigga said patiently. "Therefore you must tell me. Would you disobey your Queen's direct command? Even so, I am her mother, I simply wish to know what has happened so that I may know how to help her."

Biting her lip, Celeste raked a nervous hand through her hair.

"Well?" Frigga prompted. "What has occurred?"

"I know only a little," Celeste replied.

"Then tell me what you know."

"Very well," the maid sighed and told the Queen of that day in the market place and what happened a week later. She omitted no detail, from the Princess's lack of recognition and her own conversation with very man the Princess presumed to be dead. With great reluctance she told the Queen of the exchange between the Princess and herself two weeks ago and the all too brief conversation that morning.

Frigga was silent throughout the recounting. While that did indeed explain Y/N's strange behaviour towards Celeste, it did not explain her disappearance. Turning away from the maid, she looked back out on the training grounds. "Why did she not tell me?" She whispered, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

"She is hurting, Your Majesty," Celeste murmured. "What I said to her only made it worse."

"Tell me one thing and one thing only, Celeste," Frigga said, turning to the maid. "And let it be the truth. Was it truly him that you spoke with?"

The maid nodded.

"With words, if you please," Frigga said softly.

"Yes," Celeste replied. "It was he. From the way he watched her, I knew that she means more to him than Her Highness is likely aware of."

"What prevented the recognition I wonder?" Frigga murmured.

"That I do not know, Your Majesty," Celeste answered. "But I suspect that her grief will not allow her to see what is right in front of her."

"You may well be right," Frigga replied and smiled at the maid. "Now I simply must locate her and I cannot very well go and ask her father."

Celeste grinned but remained silent.

The sun was nearing the horizon by the time she found her, at long last. It was her voice that guided the Queen to her. So unbearably sad did it sound that Frigga almost did not recognise it.

_"Who can say for certain  
Maybe you're still here  
I feel you all around me  
Your memories so clear  
_

_Deep in the stillness  
I can hear you speak  
You're still an inspiration  
Can it be  
That you are mine  
Forever love  
And you are watching over me from up above..."  
_

Between the targets she was, collecting the arrows, her voice drifting up into the night. Frigga could do little but watch, never had she heard anything so haunting.

_"Fly me up to where you are_   
_Beyond the distant star_   
_I wish upon tonight_   
_To see you smile_   
_If only for awhile to know you're there_   
_A breath away's not far_   
_To where you are..."_

With Celeste's words echoing in her memory, Frigga murmured a soft spell.

_"Are you gently sleeping  
Here inside my dream_   
_And isn't faith believing_   
_All power can't be seen_

_As my heart holds you_   
_Just one beat away_   
_I cherish all you gave me everyday_   
_'Cause you are mine_   
_Forever love_   
_Watching me from up above_

_And I believe_   
_That angels breathe_   
_And that love will live on and never leave..."_

Y/N had turned her face toward the twilight sky where the moon was winking into view. Her hands were pressed to her chest, paying no mind to the arrows she held.

_"Fly me up_   
_To where you are_   
_Beyond the distant star_   
_I wish upon tonight_   
_To see you smile_   
_If only for awhile_   
_To know you're there_   
_A breath away's not far_   
_To where you are..."_

One arm reached out to the darkening sky and Frigga was sure she saw it tremble. The fingers curled lightly, as though holding onto an unseen hand.

_"I know you're there_   
_A breath away's not far_   
_To where you are."_

The evening breeze carried the final words away and left the Princess leaning against one of the further targets. Wiping at her eyes, Y/N cleared her throat and adjusted her posture. She had meant every word.

Trudging the short distance to the next target, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw her mother standing there. How long she had been there, Y/N did not know, nor how much she had heard.

Frigga awaited her patiently and smiled warmly when she moved closer, her quiver once more filled with arrows and her bow held tightly.

"Hello, mother," Y/N greeted her, smiling in return.

"Quite the chase you lead me on," Frigga remarked, winking. "Practicing, were we?" She asked, nodding to the weaponry her daughter held.

The Princess nodded. "You could say that, yes."

There was a moment of silence before the Princess spoke again, only this time in the smallest voice Frigga had ever heard from her. "Am I going mad?"

"That all depends, my darling," Frigga replied. "What has transpired to make you think so?"

Y/N shook her head and adjusted her grip on her bow. "A great many things," she replied, not meeting her mother's gaze.

"Might this have anything to do with what happened in the market three weeks ago?" Frigga asked gently.

When Y/N's eyes widened, the Queen laughed softly. "Celeste told me, but only after a great amount of pressure from my side."

"It is an aspect of it, yes."

"Celeste has told me her side," Frigga said, stepping closer and taking Y/N's free hand. "I would very much like to hear yours."

"Why?"

"Because I am your mother, and I have noticed that you have not been quite yourself in these recent weeks."

Y/N sighed heavily and swallowed past the emotions welling up.

"Please tell me, my sweet girl," the Queen implored. "I cannot help if I do not know."

"I am haunted, mother," Y/N choked out, losing the battle as tears gathered in her eyes. "First I see someone who bears such a remarkable resemblance to him, especially the eyes. Oh Norns, mother," she whimpered. "Those eyes were so similar, even the same shade of green his were. And his voice, I wanted to believe it was him. And then Celeste comes and tells me that he is alive! But how can he be? How can he be alive when I _know_ he is dead?"

The Princess's grip on her mother's hands had tightened, but Frigga remained silent.

"And then," Y/N continued. "The day after, I go for a ride outside the Palace walls. I know not where I am going when I hear my title being called. The house from which it came seemed familiar to me and the closer I got, the more I recognised it and the speaker. It was Lady Hela. I spent a good hour there, with her before I decided to leave, not wanting to give father yet another reason to send out a search party. I had left the estate behind when I heard it."

"Heard what?" Frigga asked softly, guiding her daughter's distant gaze back to her.

"His name," Y/N whispered. "It was called so loudly and I know for a fact that I did not imagine it. But no matter how hard I listened, it did not come again." '

"Oh Y/N," the Queen murmured, drawing her daughter into an embrace.

Y/N clung to her, her face buried in the crook of her mother's neck. "Am I going mad?" She whimpered.

"No, my darling," Frigga soothed, cradling her daughter close. "No you are not."

"Then why is my mind playing such tricks on me?"

The Queen laughed softly and shook her head. "Your mind is not playing any tricks on you, my precious one. You are hearing and seeing these things because they are-"

"Your Majesty! Your Highness!" The call of a guard cut the Queen's words off and left Y/N wondering what her mother was about to say.

"Yes?" Frigga asked the approaching guard.

"The Allfather wishes for the both of you to join him in the royal dining room."

Y/N rolled her eyes. Was her father serious? Sending a guard to collect them for dinner as though they were children.

Frigga smiled instead and nodded to the nervous young man. "You may go and tell my husband that we will be there presently."

~ ~ ~

He was sure he had imagined it the first time. But then it came again, soft beautiful words sung in a voice he had not heard for some time. Though beautiful and heartfelt, her voice was sad and he swore that it cracked every so often.

Finishing up the last tapestry, Loki sighed and looked out the window to see a full moon. If he looked long enough, he could see her features, smiling down at him as her words surrounded him.

By what enchantment was this made possible? By what grace was he permitted to hear her sing in her angel's voice? Holding a hand to his heart, he smiled up at the sky. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, my love."

Turning away from the window, he began to make his way back downstairs. The household had long since retired for the night, leaving the manor as silent as a tomb. Descending the stairs, he disposed of the soiled water and shook the dust out of the numerous cloths he had used.

As with the days before, the fire burnt with a lively vigor and made him smile. Viola, bless her heart, always stoked the fire well before she went to bed, knowing he would be up late once again. Settling down beside the warm hearth, he cushioned his cheek on his arms and looked into the fire. Y/N's song haunted him.

_"_ _As my heart holds you  
_ _Just one beat away_  
 _I cherish all you gave me everyday_  
 _'Cause you are mine_  
 _Forever love_  
 _Watching me from up above_

_And I believe  
That angels breathe  
And that love will live on and never leave..."_

Closing his eyes, Loki felt a tear escape. Clarity came with painful intensity. Now he knew why she had not seen him for who he was. The stone beneath him hissed softly as his tear fell on the warm surface. "I am closer than you know," he whispered.

_"I know you're there_   
_A breath away's not far_   
_To where you are."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics belong the song 'To Where You Are', the rendition used was sung by Chloe Agnew of Celtic Woman:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rq0zecrpYZY


	14. Blinded by memories

He had barely finished with the hearth in the General's study when he heard it. Loud and clear, as thunder during a storm.

"LOKI!"

"Alright," he muttered to himself, brushing together the last of the lingering ash into the metal bucket beside him. "I am on my way."

"LOKI!"

Gathering everything together, he used the fireplace's ornate frame to stand. "I said I was coming," he said to the empty room. With that, he departed. He knew better than to go straight to Thor, so the kitchens became his destination.

There was not even enough time to nod in thanks as one of the maids took the ashy bucket and brushes from him. The sound of his name being bellowed made the staff collectively flinch.

Turning on his heels, Loki made his way back up the stairs and towards Thor's chambers.

Unfortunately for him, Thor was not the room's sole occupant. Hela was there too, lurking by the window and looking up on his entrance. "At last," she purred. "For a moment we feared you had gone deaf."

Biting back a remark, Loki remained silent and directed his gaze to the floor. The sooner Thor voiced his request, the sooner he would be able to leave their loathsome presence.

"What is that on your face?" Thor asked as though genuinely curious, but Loki knew better.

"Why," Hela breathed, standing from her place on the window's love seat. "I do believe it is ash and cinders from the fireplace." Approaching him, she ran the tip of her nail across his cheek and examined the nail as she drew it away. "Look at that," she tutted, shaking her head and flicking the offending particles off her finger. "You should know better."

"Do clean yourself up," Thor snapped. "Or you shall make my chambers and myself appear as you are."

"Apologies, my Lord brother," Loki murmured, bowing. "I dared not tarry once I heard you call for me."

"Yet you were still late," Thor retorted, curling his lip. "Go and make yourself as presentable as you can and then return."

He could not leave the room fast enough. Retreating back to the kitchens, he did not hear Viola or Ellaria call out to him. Fetching a cloth, he dashed outside to where the well was. The water, he knew, would be blessedly cold and provide some momentary relief.

As predicted, the water in the retrieved bucket was cool, eliciting a blissful sigh. Using the cloth, Loki wiped the offending ash and soot away. For but a moment, he caught his reflection in the water. What a harsh image it was. Though always of a lean build, he now appeared starved. Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes made for a shocking image. His hair, though short, looked to be too much of a weight for his head and neck to carry. With trembling fingers, he traced the shape of his collarbone and the partially exposed jut of his shoulder.

Inhaling shakily, he straightened his poor excuse for a tunic and made his way back into the manor.

"What took you so long?" Thor demanded the moment Loki set foot in the room, though he waved off any words he may have said. "You will come with me into the town to retrieve my bow."

Why this errand required two people, Loki did not know, nor dare ask. "Of course," he replied softly.

"Well don't just stand there, ready my horse."

Dread filled him. Though this behaviour was expected, Loki did not relish the thought of walking all that way in the day's heat, his weakened state would only slow him down.

The sun beat down as he made the short journey to the stables. The horses nickered in greeting and made him smile, at least some were still happy to see him. His smile soon vanished as Thor entered the stables, Hela was mercifully absent.

"Come along then," Thor said the moment he had mounted up. "There is no time to be wasted and I will not allow you to slow me down."

~ ~ ~

With her hair in a simple braid and attired in a [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/cotton-dress-with-long-sleeves-and-pleated-bodice-water-flowers) of simple design, Y/N left the Palace behind. Her long skirt and sleeves billowed behind her as she ran toward the town. It had been so long since she had gone by herself.

It was late morning and approaching the mark of afternoon when she had left the Palace and entered the town. The excitement for the upcoming tournament made the very air pulse as though in time with her heart.

The chime of the clock tower's bells and the chatter of people lulled Y/N into a sense of contentment as she wove through the streets. The music from the street musicians made her smile as she passed them by and dropped a coin or two in the hats at their feet.

A flurry of "Good day, Princess" greeted her and had her respond with equal warmth. The people were accustomed to seeing their Princess in the town and few even dared to speak directly with her.

"For you, Princess," a young woman said, passing Y/N a fine [bracelet](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-jewelry/enamelled-brass-medieval-narrow-bracelet-water-flowers) of gold and mother-of-pearl. Her family were jewellers, that much Y/N knew.

"Are you certain?" Y/N asked, holding the gift delicately with both hands.

The woman nodded, her dark eyes lighting up with a smile. "I am," she replied. "It was fashioned with Your Highness in mind."

Y/N felt her eyes widen and her heart bloom. "Thank you," she breathed, slipping the bracelet on and marveling at how well it suited what she already wore. "It is truly very beautiful."

"I am glad to hear you approve."

The Princess grinned and met the woman's gaze. "I am delighted and humbled by this most thoughtful gift," she said. "Please, do pass my gratitude onto your family-"

"LOKI!"

Y/N swore her heart stopped beating. "Did you hear that?" She whispered to the young jeweller.

The woman canted her heard in confusion. "Hear what, Princess?"

Y/N cared not for how she appeared as she searched for the source of the sound. Her heart beat wildly within her as she searched the crowds, she knew that voice, it was the same one she had heard from the manor. Softly repeating his name to herself as she wove through the streets, Y/N was sure she appeared mad.

But find him, or the speaker, she could not.

"I cannot have imagined it," she muttered, shaking her head. Her shoulders heaved with every breath she took. Resting against the wall of an inn, she looked around, scanning those that passed her by. It was then that she saw it. A flash of ebony hair. "Loki," she whispered, pushing away from the wall, stuttering in her steps as for a brief moment their eyes met. Her heart was in her throat and when she blinked, he was gone.

"No, no, no," she muttered, over and over as she made to follow.

The small crowd seemed thicker now that she was in pursuit of someone. "Please do not let me have imagined this," she said to herself as she ducked and wove between people. The tricks her mind were playing were becoming more intricate by far.

From a distance, Thor saw her. Though simply dressed for her station, she was easy to single out. Thrusting his new bow into Loki's arms, Thor made straight for her. Loki, for his part, was frozen in place as he saw where his step-brother was headed. Ducking his head, he quickly followed.

"Your Highness."

Loki saw the hem of her gown spin as she turned at the address. He dared not look up.

"My Lord Thor," she replied, suitably surprised. "I did not expect to see you here."

"It is true," Thor said, "I do not come to town all too often. But I see that the people are used to seeing you here?"

Y/N laughed softly, the sound a soothing balm to the one who bowed, yet longed to see her face. He was sure she was smiling. "They are my people," she replied. "It is my duty to be known to them, and they to me. I am to be their Queen one day and my face ought to be familiar to them."

Loki smiled softly at her response. The afternoon breeze toyed with the hem of her gown and brought into sharp relief the colours she wore. His colours. His heart soared at their proximity, even if she was unaware of who stood before her.

"May I ask what brings you here today?" She asked, arranging her braid to fall over her shoulder, allowing her to fiddle with the emerald ribbon at its base.

"The acquisition of my new bow," Thor replied proudly.

Y/N's eyes lit up. "For the tournament?"

Thor nodded, "indeed, Princess."

Her smile widened. "A recurve I see," she observed, eyeing the weapon. "A fine choice, my Lord. They are much better than those favoured by the archers in my father's army."

"Her Highness knows her bows?" Thor asked, surprised. So the rumours were true then?

"Oh indeed I do," she replied. "May I?" She asked, reaching for the weapon but looking to Thor.

"Of course, Your Highness."

Delighted, she took a step forward and took the bow the servant offered out. "Oh," she breathed, feeling its weight and balance and running her hands over the smooth curved wood. "A true work of art."

Her fingers barely brushed his as she returned the weapon. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Your Highness," he replied, just as softly.

"Hello again," she said, smiling down at him.

"You know him?" Thor asked, edging closer.

Y/N nodded and looked to the blond Lord. "Indeed. Is he yours?"

Thor nodded. "My manservant, yes."

"Interesting," she muttered and turned back to him. "How is your hand? Is it healing well?"

Loki nodded and tightened his grip on the bow.

"How wonderful," she said, clasping her hands together before looking to Thor. "My Lord, might I request a favour?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Thor replied, bowing.

Y/N cast a quick glance the servant's way. "May I have a word with your man? It will be only a moment and then I shall leave you two in peace."

Thor's eyes narrowed at her words, yet he inclined his head in a half nod.

"Come with me," she said softly and gestured for Loki to follow her.

When at last they came to a halt, he finally dared to look up and around and saw that they stood in a rather secluded little alley. "Highness?"

Y/N didn't answer right away, her hands twisted around each other and smoothed down her gown. "You are no doubt confused," she said and smiled gently.

He nodded in answer.

"I apologise for the secrecy," she continued.

"It is no bother, Your Highness," he replied softly.

"It is just that," she said, eyes going distant and her smile trembled at the edges. "You remind me of someone who was very dear to me."

A single, solitary tear escaped her eye and traced a shining path down her cheek. He felt his hand twitch, itching to swipe it away and lay a hand against her cheek. A gesture so familiar, but now forbidden. He simply watched her, illuminated by the early afternoon sun. What little he saw of her, he cherished.

"Your eyes are like his too," she murmured, unaware of the raw and unadulterated adoration in his eyes as he drank in her image, her being. "Like the finest emerald. The colour of new leaves in the Spring."

"I am unworthy of such compliments," he said in reply. "But I thank Your Highness for her kind words."

Her smile was sad as she regarded him, head bowed in dutiful submission. Reaching out, she gently tipped his chin up, their eyes meeting. It seemed for a moment as though she wanted to say something more, but soon thought better of it. "I shan't keep you from your duties," she said softly and stepped back.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing. Only once her footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, did he look up. "My love," he whispered.

He hoped and prayed that she had somehow heard him, but when she did not turn and when her form was swallowed up by the mingling townspeople, he knew she had not. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he felt but one tear escape.

His heart bled within him and his mind mocked him for his foolishness. In loving her, he had given himself over to pain. A pain he was more than willing to endure. Holding his healing hand to his heart, he smiled faintly, her image coming to him from behind his closed eyes.

Thor watched from the alley mouth with clenched fists. It was evident that Her Highness did not know who he was. But the danger did not lie with her, but with the man before him. "Loki," he called, the dark head snapping up at the sound of his name. "Come." Like a loyal dog, the younger man followed on foot while he rode. Looking down at him, Thor did not miss how he stole a glance behind him.

"Is something the matter?" He asked harshly.

Immediately, Loki snapped his gaze forward and down and shook his head. "No, my Lord brother."

Huffing, Thor shook his head. He had not missed the way Loki had looked searchingly into the crowd. A desperate hope lingering in his eyes. "Banish any hope you have," he said. "There is no chance in the Nine that she will wish to spend time with someone such as you. She is a Princess, royalty. You are nothing, lower than the dust that coats the bottom of her shoes."

The words stung, there was no denying that.


	15. Undeserved cruelty

This just wouldn't do.

She could not well make her mark and stand out from the rest if her arrows looked as theirs did. Though fond of her current quiver-full, Y/N knew that the upcoming tournament called for something a little more festive, a little more unique and distinct to her.

Grasping her arrows securely in one hand, she made for the door, the skirts of her gown held in her other hand. Knowing well her father would disapprove of what she was about to do, Y/N cast a look up and down the corridor outside her chambers. Upon finding it clear, she darted out and towards the main courtyard.

Servants and guards alike shook their heads and smiled as the Princess ran past them.

Once outside the Palace walls, Y/N grinned and let out a small laugh. Her father would prefer her to go either Cathán or the royal smithy. But Y/N had always loved the town and had therefore taken to visiting the tailors for her gowns, and not the royal tailor, which both Celeste and the Queen found to be quite amusing. Odin, not so much.

They had made the [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-cotton-dress-with-puffed-sleeves-water-flowers) she now wore. A stunning, yet simple creation of rose coloured cotton and silver thread. The smith was right at the opposite end of the town, near the gates. It was a beautiful day and she had little else to do.

"Good afternoon, Princess," the townsfolk called to her, some of the more courageous children coming up to walk with her.

"Why have you got all those arrows?" A little girl asked, gaze fixed on the white-feathered arrows.

Y/N smiled down at the child and gently ruffled her hair. "Because I need to get new ones."

The girl frowned, making the Princess laugh. "But that makes no sense."

"Sure it does," Y/N replied and paused, crouching down. The small group quickly surrounded her. She held the arrows so that all could see them. "Have you all heard of the big tournament coming up in a few days?" When they all nodded, she continued. "It is a special event-"

"So you also need special arrows?" A young boy piped up eagerly.

Y/N laughed and nodded. "Exactly. I need special arrows for those three days."

"But why?" Asked the girl from before.

The Princess smiled. "Because there will be so many people shooting arrows. They will all need to see which one is mine."

That seemed to satisfy the little girl who now beamed up at her and dared to reach for her hand. Never one to deny affection, Y/N readily took the child's hand and winked. "Shall we?" She asked the small group that had amassed.

From the shops and streets, the townspeople saw them pass by.

It was only when they neared the smithy that she turned to the children and once more crouched down to their level. "I am afraid that I must make this last part alone. Run along back to your parents, little ones. I shall see you again soon," with soft noises and little waves, she sent them on their way and waved at those who turned to look over their shoulder.

Once more alone, she turned her attention to the series of buildings before her. It was not often that a member of the royal family visited this corner of the town.

Y/N soon found what she was looking for. The sign bearing a hammer and anvil swung up above her and near the entrance of the workshop itself. "Hello?" She called, louder than usual, as she knew her voice needed to carry over the din of beating metal.

Both assistants looked up at the same time, the Master was too deep in his work to have heard her.

"Your Highness," both greeted her and bowed low. Y/N smiled at them and gestured for them to rise.

"I have but a simple favor to ask," she said and presented her arrows, in particular the arrow heads. She made to continue when the Master finally saw her.

"Your Highness, forgive me," he said, hurriedly wiping his hands on his worn leather smock. "I did not see you."

"It is quite alright," she replied. "I was just saying to your assistants that the favour I ask is simple."

"How might we help you?" He asked.

"I was hoping you would be able to fashion a number of arrowheads for me?"

"How many were you thinking of, Your Highness?" One of the assistants asked.

"Only three," she replied, "this is for the tournament."

"I see. You shall be competing yourself, Your Highness?"

Y/N laughed softly and nodded. "Indeed I shall. For how else will I know who matches me if I do not fire arrows of my own?"

The smithy was silent for a moment before the Master spoke again. "Three you said? Any design in particular?"

The Princess thought for a moment before answering. "I need it to be unique but still practical, is that too vague?"

The Master shook his head and reached for the arrows she held, "may I?"

Nodding, she passed them over to him. As the trio examined the arrowheads, she indulged her curiosity. The workshop was indeed very similar to the ones in the Palace. Her gown trailed on the ground as she moved, gathering dust and soot as she went.

Her touch was lighter than a feather as her hands skimmed over the tools and surfaces. It was warm in the workshop, to be sure. Racks upon racks displayed finished work that was simply waiting to be collected. "Such artistry," she murmured, eyeing the pommels of swords that bore fine gold filigree and others that had leaves and flowers worked into the handle. Her eyes drifted down and caught on something rather different from the rest.

Canting her head to the side, she let her hands skim over what she perceived to be a mould. She had never seen the like and it intrigued her. There were two of them, an identical set. "Master Blacksmith?" She called softly, gaining his attention and that of his assistants.

"Yes, Your Highness?" He asked, coming to stand before her.

"I find myself intrigued," she said and gestured to the moulds. "By these. While I perceive for them to be moulds of some kind, I do not know what exactly."

The assistants shared a glance but remained silent as their Master began to speak. "Your Highness is correct," he said. "They were commissioned some time ago by a rather wealthy family for one of their servants who was proving, at least to them, to be a little troublesome."

Y/N felt dread pool in her stomach. There was no way she was going to enjoy this explanation. Damn her insatiable curiosity! "Troublesome?" She repeated softly.

"Indeed, Your Highness, thought they did not disclose many details."

"Interesting," she murmured, her gaze going back to the mould, her fingers dancing over the forms. "Though, these etchings, on the exterior, they are runes, are they not?"

"Yes, Your Highness, they are," the Master replied. "The family was very specific in their choosing of them. They were here when they were added to the mould."

"Specific indeed," Y/N muttered, narrowing her eyes as she peered closer. "These runes are not simply meant to restrain, but to restrain one's magic..." her voice trailed into a horrified silence. Oh that poor, unfortunate servant, whomever they might have been. "A servant blessed with the ability to wield seidr," she shook her head. "The family no doubt felt threatened."

The Master said nothing and simply nodded. The look in his eyes was ghastly and Y/N dreaded to ask why.

"I see no allowances for leather straps to secure whatever this is," she remarked. "How was this to be worn?"

"No straps or fastenings were required," the Master explained. "The family was very specific in that regard. They did not want this cuff to be removed."

"How then?" She asked fearfully. "Dare I ask?"

The men before her looked haunted. "Just after the metal was poured," the Master explained. "It was allowed to cool only a little before it was moulded to the arm."

Y/N swore in that moment, she was to be sick. Right then and there. "On the arm?" She choked out, gasping. "What manner of metal?"

"Gold."

Her chest heaved as she fought to swallow the bile that rose up. "And this was done to both arms?" She whispered and received a nod. "Such barbarity," she muttered, shaking her head. "Such cruelty. What manner of family would treat their servants in such a way? Were they high or minor nobles?"

"High," the Master replied.

The Princess ground her teeth and clenched her jaw, but it was becoming too much. Shaking her head, she excused herself before being violently sick, tears breaking free of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She cared not who saw. What she just been told horrified her. Not even the few slaves that remained were treated in such a manner! Her hands shook as they were braced against the wall for support.

She did not know how long she remained so. Only that her chest ached and her arms shook as she straightened herself and reentered the workshop, cleaning herself up with a small wave of her hand.

"I must apologise for such an unseeming display," she said, relieved that her voice was at least steady.

"It is no matter, Your Highness," one of the assistants spoke up. "Only be thankful you were not witness to it."

"Indeed I am," she muttered. "Were either of you there?"

Both nodded. "We were," one of them replied. "We were required to hold him still, while the Master moulded the cuff."

Y/N cursed herself for her vivid imagination and felt the bile rise up again. Her breathing stuttered slightly as she nodded. "I see."

"It haunts me to this very day," the Master murmured, shaking his head. "Poor boy. I could not even imagine the agony he would have been in. A pain that I caused-"

"No," Y/N interrupted gently, reaching out and laying a hand on his large forearm. "It was not your doing, but the family's. It was they that requested this to be done, not you. The blame lies with them."

"Your Highness is too kind."

She smiled warmly. "You said boy. How old was he?"

"A few years your senior, Princess," the Master replied. "Perhaps one or two."

"No one should be treated that way," she said, earning murmurs of agreement from the three men. "Now, back to the arrows..."

"I have a design in mind for you, Princess," the Master said, smiling sightly. "They will, at the very earliest, be ready tomorrow."

Y/N clapped her hands in joy. "Oh how wonderful!" She exclaimed, smiling. "I shall come by personally and thank you so very much. I appreciate this more than you could possibly know."

Retrieving her arrows, she cast one last glance at the moulds and shuddered before stepping back out into the street. The sun glared off the buildings and had her blink for a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the light once more.

The blacksmith's words did not leave her. Even as she returned to the Palace and her chambers. "I do not know you," she murmured, looking out her window where her curtains fluttered gently. "Yet I grieve for the pain you felt on that day. An undeserved cruelty."

Leaning against the balcony railing, she looking down at the gardens that sprawled beneath her. A plethora of perfumes scented the air around her. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Without moving, she watched them. For it was a couple that snuck between the shadows of the columns and trees. A couple she knew. Their faces were known to her. She watched them for a time, smiling, barely holding hands. Their soft laughter reached her and with a sigh, she stood, turning on her heels and heading back inside.


	16. When will she recognise him?

Only a few days remained before the tournament was due to take place and tragedy had struck the estate.

Impatience combined with a lack of finesse had resulted in the destruction of a newly acquired piece of weaponry. The sun had not yet reached its midpoint in the cloudless sky when Thor stormed back into the manor, the now broken bow in his hands.

Hela emerged at the top of the stairs at her brother's entrance. "What is it?" She called down. "What has happened?"

Thor stopped at the sound of his sister's voice and looked up, his expression thunderous. "This," he hissed, holding up the broken bow.

Hela gasped at the sight. "Come on up," she said, gesturing for her brother to join her where she stood. "Pass it to me," she said the moment Thor stood before her. Gingerly she took the two pieces of wood in her hands. The pieces remained connected by the bowstring itself, while the handle was snapped in two. She winced as she ran a light finger over the jagged edges.

"There is no way I can compete without a bow," Thor grumbled. "Three days is not enough to have a new one made. I am doomed."

Hela was silent for a short moment before she smiled, looking over at her disgruntled brother. "All hope is not lost, dear brother."

Thor snorted. "Unless you have a way of fixing this before the tournament? There is no hope to be had."

Her smile only grew. "Come along with me. I have an idea."

Curious and eager for anything that would save the situation, Thor followed her. Of all the rooms he expected Hela to go to, their late stepmother's was the last. The room itself had been maintained beautifully, as though she were still alive and Thor could only think of one person who would exert such effort for a dead woman.

Laying the pieces of the broken bow on the bed, Hela made her way to the foot of it, where a large chest sat. With no small amount of effort, she lifted the lid, groaning as she did so. At first, all that could be seen were blankets and clothing. Thor made to question his sister when she began to dig through it.

"Hela? What is the meaning of this? Surely this hope you speak of cannot lie in a dead woman's room?"

Hela smirked and continued digging, her eyes lighting up as her fingers brushed against her prize. Curling her hands around it, she lifted it from the chest.

"What is that?" Thor asked, looking at the large black box his sister held.

"Just you wait and see," Hela replied, eye alight. Setting the box on the floor, she gestured for Thor to sit opposite her. Deft fingers undid the polished brass clasps and opened the box. From it, she lifted a bow.

Thor's eyes were wide as he beheld the weapon. Never had he seen anything like it. It was so much more beautiful than the one he had had commissioned. Simple in design, it bore an undeniable power. "Was that hers?" He asked softly.

Hela shook her head. "No. It is _his."_

"You mean Loki?"

His sister nodded. "Indeed. He hid it away in here, hoping we would not find it. But I did, not a week after she died."

"This is perfect," Thor breathed in wonder, holding his hands out to Hela in question.

"I knew you would be happy," Hela replied, smiling and gently laying the bow in his hands. "Did I not say that there was hope?"

Thor returned his sister's smile and nodded. "Indeed you did." He fell into silence as he examined the weapon in his hands. The wood had been oiled to a shine, the golden oak inlays caught in the sunlight. The bowstring was not yet attached fully, yet promised to be taut in a way the other had not been. "This will do nicely."

"What are you doing with my father's bow?"

The voice, though soft, startled the siblings. Both turned at the same time to see Loki at the room's threshold, his eyes on the bow Thor held. In his arms, he held neat bundles of freshly washed clothing that he had been on his way to deposit in Thor's chamber.

"We were simply making sure all was right with your bow, you know, in time for the tournament," Hela replied, earning a look of blatant shock from Thor and one of surprise from Loki.

Stepping into the room, he lay the clothing on the bed and turned to Hela. "You wish me...to compete?" He asked, the beginnings of a smile forming as tears pricked behind his eyes. "Truly?"

"Of course," Thor replied, recovering from his shock.

"I do not know what to say," Loki whispered, his heart leapt within him and hope blossomed bright and beautiful. Perhaps there was a chance after all.

"Say?" Hela repeated, standing up and moving to stand before him. Smiling sweetly, she took one of his hands, grimacing as she felt the callouses. "Honestly Loki, it wounds both Thor and I that you don't consider yourself our brother."

"I only meant-"

"Hush now," she said softly. "It would only be right for you and Thor to compete as brothers and then we will attend the dances as a family." Inwardly, she sneered at the hope that shone from his eyes like the sun. "But that will only come to pass if you complete all your tasks by then, be on your best behaviour and find something suitable to wear, am I clear?"

Loki nodded and smiled at them both. "Very," he replied before stepping back and collecting the clothing once more and departing.

The moment he was gone, Thor turned on his sister. "What were you thinking?" He hissed. "We cannot allow him to come with us. What if the Princess should finally recognise him?"

Hela simply smiled. "Surely you heard what I said?"

"Of course I did," Thor scoffed, folding his arms.

"Apparently not," she remarked. "For if you had, you would not be so sullen."

"I heard what you said," Thor snapped. "Loud and clear. You said that if he manages to complete everything and not misbehave, then he can come."

"Exactly," Hela murmured, looking in the direction Loki had gone. "I said _if."_

Realisation dawned for Thor and his scowl became a smile. "Oh, _if."_

Loki could barely contain his excitement when he returned to the kitchens. His smile had not disappeared and caused Viola to raise an eyebrow. "While I am happy to see you smile, young master," she said, "may I ask what happened?"

"Indeed you can," he replied, beaming. "Indeed you can."

Ellaria yelped in surprise when Loki took her hand and began to spin with her around the kitchen. The other maids and footmen laughed at his antics. Ellaria's shock soon dissolved into giggles as she played along. It was good to see him happy.

When at last he let Ellaria go, Loki took hold of Viola's hand and pulled her into a similar dance. "I am to see her again," he explained happily. "I am to see her again."

Viola chuckled and pulled him to a halt. "While this is certainly a pleasant surprise, what had happened for this to occur?"

Loki smiled down at her and held her by the shoulders. "Hela and Thor are allowing me to compete in the tournament and to attend the balls with them."

Viola returned his smile, but frowned inwardly. This was unlike those two. What reason could they have for this sudden show of kindness?

His smile however, dropped as though he remembered something.

"What is it?" Viola asked gently. "What have you recalled?"

"I have nothing suitable for such an event," he mumbled, downcast. "Not anymore."

Viola felt her heart clench at the forlorn look in his eyes. "I am sure we can find something," she whispered. "Just you wait and see, alright?" When he gave a small nod, she smiled. "Chin up, young master. Together we will figure something out."

The happy atmosphere was shattered by Hela's voice as she called for him. "LOKI!"

"Back to reality it would seem," he muttered and flashed Viola a brief smile before disappearing up the stairs.

He found Hela in her rooms. The doors were barely opened when she began with her request, nay, her demand. "Ready my horse will you? Be sure that it is the side-saddle."

"Yes, mistress," he murmured, loud enough for her to hear.

He had only just finished readying the snow white stallion when Hela herself entered. Attired in a black [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-black-cotton-dress-lady-hunter) with red and gold trimming, she had completed the look with a golden circlet. Her ink black tresses spilled down her back in loose curls.

Choosing to forgo the mounting block, Hela gestured for Loki to help her. The balls of her slippered feet pressed down the hardest as she mounted, using his hands as a stirrup. Loki winced at the flash of pain that shot through his healing hand, but said nothing. Hela would be gone soon, that was his focus now.

Hela was soon framed by the stable entrance and when she turned to look at him, Loki braced himself.

"What in the Nine are you doing still standing there?" She demanded. "Get over here now."

Sighing inwardly, he made his way over to her and made to ask what she wanted when she reached down and secured a length of leather that was attached to her saddle, to his right wrist. This was new. He looked to her in question.

"So you don't get any bright ideas to slow us down," she replied, smiling just as sweetly as she had before. "We are to retrieve my gowns today and I can't very well carry them on my own."

Resigned, he sighed and nodded. "Yes, mistress," he replied softly.

It would be a very long day indeed.

~ ~ ~

They were absolutely stunning. [Simple in design](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/572168327662267213/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ), yet so very different to any she had ever seen. The black of them suited the ebony arrow shafts beautifully, the white feathers completing the look.

Holding the arrows close, Y/N wandered through the streets. Her earrings tinkled softly as she moved, her head turning at intervals as her eye was caught by a fleeting interest. The slight breeze played with the strands that had worked themselves loose of the updo.

Waving to the children that had accompanied her yesterday, she continued to meander through the winding streets. Her feet eventually took her to the canal that ran alongside the Palace's outer walls. It was a peaceful place, overhung with trees and its banks were lined with the most colourful flowers. Perhaps she would pick some for her mother. Nodding to herself, she settled herself by the edge, her legs dangling over the water.

Setting the arrows to one side, she leaned back on her elbows and tipped her head back. The cool water of the canal lapped lightly at her newly bared feet and provided some much needed relief.

It made for a peaceful picture. One of tranquility and calm. One might have believed that all was at it ought to have been. After all, it was nothing new to see the Princess seek to escape the confines of the Palace and out among the common folk.

A blissful sigh left her lips and she lay on her back, the grass cool despite the day's heat. The birds twittered above her, hopping from branch to branch. The impulsive notion to loosen her hair came to mind and made her smile. It had been quite a while since she had last done that.

Her daydreaming was brought to a rather abrupt ending at the sound of horse's hooves rather close by. So startled was she that, in sitting up, she pitched forward. She would have fallen right into the canal had she not gripped the bank tightly at a moment's notice.

Her heart thundered within her, droplets of water that had been kicked up by her feet darkened the skirt of her [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-flax-corset-belt-mistress-of-the-hills). The corset, thankfully, remained dry. Scrambling to her feet and snatching up her arrows, she dove behind a tree. It was likely to be a guard sent by her father to bring her back to the Palace. Her frequent visits to the town did not sit right with the King.

Peaking out, she saw a white horse pass by and the rider most certainly did not look like a guard. Not unless guards had taken to wearing dresses and circlets. Her eyes widened a fraction as she saw who the second person was. Lord Thor's manservant! But what was he doing here, with Lady Hela? That loathsome woman. Y/N felt her lips curl into a sneer as she watched the small group pass by.

She watched them turn a corner before she took action. Murmuring a quick enchantment, she cloaked herself and crept in the direction they had taken. Why she was following them, she eventually chalked it up to boredom. But there was another reason, one that she dared not say out loud.

Y/N was well gone from the canal by the time she realised that she had forgotten her shoes. Looking down at her feet, she sighed and shook her head. Bare and dusty, she looked similar to the town's children. Shrugging, she turned back to those she was following and saw with some interest that it was the tailors they entered.

Creeping up as silently as she could, she stepped up to the front windows and looked inside. Upon remembering her status as unseen, she approached the door and placing her hand over the wood, phased right through and into the shop itself.

Her eyes immediately landed on the small group before her.

Lady Hela, it seemed, was in the midst of a conversation with the tailor as she examined three gowns. Though Y/N was fond of peacocks, she quickly discovered that she did not enjoy seeing their feathers on dresses.

Her attention then drifted to the as yet unnamed manservant. Tiptoeing closer, she stopped a short distance from him. His clothing had certainly seen better days and when was the last time he had eaten? Why he looked positively starved. Y/N was sure his collarbone would slice right into her finger should she run it along the starkly exposed bone. His dark head was bowed, his brilliant green eyes directed to the wooden floor. His hands were folded before him, drawing her attention to his arms.

The tunic he wore was rolled up neatly just up past his elbows, allowing her a full view of his forearms. As her eyes travelled down, she stumbled back in shock. Her hand came up to cover her mouth in order to stifle a gasp. Forcing herself to remain as silent as possible, Y/N crept forward. Extending a trembling hand, she let it hover over the golden cuffs. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip when she saw the scars at the edges. The skin was mottled and horrid shades of red and pink.

Tears blurred her vision when the sun caught on the runes etched into the surfaces. Magic restraining runes. Shaking her head, she began to back away, not daring to believe what was right before her.

In her hasty retreat, she did not see the display mannequin that stood behind her. It wobbled dangerously and would have fallen, had she not caught it and steadied it. "Sorry," she muttered and immediately cursed herself for her foolishness.

Loki's head whipped up at the sound of the muttered apology. The tailor had stepped forward when the mannequin had wobbled dangerously, but stepped back warily when it settled. It seemed he did not hear the soft word that came after.

It was a familiar voice, his heart leapt as her name came to mind. The soft, almost indistinct patter of bare feet further caught his attention. But then, they disappeared as quickly as he'd heard them. Had they been a trick of the mind? Surely not, for had not even the tailor seen the mannequin almost topple?

"Loki," Hela hissed as she waved him over.

Reluctantly moving to stand beside his step-sister, he forced a small smile. "Yes?"

"These gowns are not to be creased or damaged in any way," she instructed. "For any damage shall be directly repaired by you. Am I understood?"

Nodding, he stepped into the back of the shop alongside the tailor, in order to collect the gowns.

Dropping the enchantment the moment she was back at the canal, Y/N collapsed onto the grassy bank. The arrows threatened to break in her clenched fist as she struggled for breath. Shaking her head vehemently, she ground her teeth. "No, no, no," she muttered, again and again. "Please, no-" her words were soon swallowed by sobs that ripped through her chest.

The sound of her weeping was heard by the small group that passed by. One astride a snow white horse, the other carrying an armful of beautiful ball gowns.

"Disgraceful," Hela muttered under her breath as she caught sight of the weeping royal. Shaking her head, she focused her gaze forward.

Loki however, could not look away. Never had he seen her as she was now. Bent in and over herself, barely in control as her tears no doubt fell to the grass below.

"Stop staring," Hela hissed when she noticed he hadn't moved. "Loki!"

Reluctantly, he looked away and followed after the horse, never knowing how she had looked up at the hiss of his name, only not to see anyone there.


	17. Don't go giving up

The General had returned to the manor and all were on edge.

The moment he had stepped into the entrance hall, his voice had rung out loud and clear as he called for one person in particular. The Allfather had permitted him to return to the estate to help his son prepare for the tournament the next day.

Alas for the one he now called for.

Loki did not hear him from where he was out by the lake. Kneeling by its banks, he was attending to a low-lying shrub of yellow flowers. They had been his mother's favourite, ' _little suns'_ was what she liked to call them. Smiling at the memory, he gently righted a stem that had entangled itself with its neighbour. "There we go," he murmured, smoothing a gentle finger over the small petals before standing up.

The lake was large enough for a boat to be used upon it. Happy memories of time spent out there with his mother flooded his mind and made him sigh with longing. The boat had long since been chopped up for firewood when they were short in supply for the winter that passed through a few months ago. Gathering up his tools, Loki smiled one last time down at the plants and gave the lake one last glance before he headed back to the manor.

The day's heat made the walk longer than it was in reality. Even in the light tunic he wore, he still felt much too warm.

Loki knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the kitchens. Having deposited the tools in the small shed by the stables, he now appeared in the kitchens empty handed.

Viola's smile was tense as she greeted him.

"Something has happened," he said, eyes narrowing. "Hasn't it?"

Viola nodded, but remained silent.

"Well?" He pressed, "what is it?"

Though the question was directed at Viola, it was Ellaria who answered in a hushed tone. "The General is here," she explained, her eyes darting fearfully to the stairwell as though Njal would appear at a moment's notice.

Loki felt the urge to groan. This did not bode well for anyone, not with the tournament the very next day. "When did he arrive?" He asked in the same tone as hers.

"About an hour ago now," Ellaria replied.

"He has been calling for you," Viola finally broke her silence and looked up at Loki. There was a rare fear in her eyes. "He started the moment he arrived. He even sent Lady Hela down here to us."

"I had best get going then," he muttered and smiled reassuringly. "I am sure it is not too serious," he said to them both.

"Be careful, young master," Viola said, taking his good hand and squeezing gently. "He seems to be in one of his moods."

Nodding, Loki spared them both a kiss to the cheek and a quick smile before darting to the stairs and disappearing just his name echoed through the house once more.

"At this rate he will have no time to prepare," Emaya remarked, shaking her head.

Ellaria nodded. "Aye," she replied. "Though I hate to say it, I do believe they planned for it to happen in this way."

"The we must make sure that when the sun rises tomorrow morning, he will be there alongside all those other Lords and Princes," Viola said, surprising the two maids.

"How will we do such a thing?" Emaya asked, coming up to stand beside her and Ellaria.

Viola smiled, there was a twinkle in her eye that neither maid had ever seen before. "Come in close, girls and allow me to explain."

Thankfully the General was alone in his study when Loki entered.

"There you are," the older man huffed from where he stood by the cold hearth.

"Lord General," Loki murmured in greeting, keeping his gaze directed down.

"Now that you have deigned it worthy of your time to come," Njal said, turning to face his step-son. "There is something that demands attention."

Loki merely nodded and chose to stay silent.

The next thing he knew, he felt the General's rough, ungloved fingers roughly tip his chin up. "Look at me when I am speaking to you," Njal hissed. "Now," he said in a slightly calmer tone. "Thor tells me that Hela invited you to compete alongside him tomorrow. Is that so?"

"Yes," Loki replied, holding the General's gaze.

"Very generous of her," Njal remarked, walking to sit behind his desk. "I do not understand why she did such a thing, though I suppose she has always had somewhat of a generous spirit."

The urge to laugh was wrestled down with great difficulty and Loki bit his lip in an effort to keep from smiling. Generous was not the first word that came to mind when one spoke of Hela.

"I was informed as to the conditions that apply to her offer," Njal continued. "Have you been adhering to these?"

One again, he nodded, opting to remain silent. There was a wide range of tasks that demanded his attention as it was. The sooner he was dismissed, the better.

"Before you go," Njal said after a moment. "Remember to muck out the stables and to feed and water the horses."

"Of course," Loki murmured, groaning inwardly. He would be working through the night now. When the General dismissed him with an absent wave of his hand, he was hard pressed not to run from the room.

"Hold on one moment," Njal called out as he stepped into the hallway.

Turning, Loki faced him. "General?"

"Now that I have you here, there are a few more things I would like for you to do, in honour of tomorrow's festivities of course."

Sighing softly, Loki nodded.

"The entire manor must be cleaned," Njal explained, "from top to bottom. Then there are the gardens to be tended to, you do a much better job with the plants than our gardener. Then once those have been completed, see to it that Thor's armour and weaponry is cleaned and polished and Hela, I believe has a rather large pile of laundry she was meaning to speak to you about."

There was no way in all the Nine realms that he would be able to complete all those tasks before the morning! Unbidden, a defeated sigh left him. "Of course," he replied instead and forced a smile.

Njal watched him leave, a satisfied smirk on his lips. There was no way he would allow him to accompany them and the list he had given him should occupy him plenty. The Princess would marry Thor, the son of a General from a prestigious line. Not the son of a dead merchant, no matter how wealthy she had been.

Loki knew he had made a mistake in passing by Hela's rooms on his way outside. Not so much as a word was said to him, she merely pushed an overflowing basket into his arms and closed the door. Thor too, seemed of the same mind and Loki began to wonder if the General had spoken to them about this prior to calling him. Now, from his shoulder and arms hung various pieces of armour, as well as two broadswords and a battleaxe.

The laundry was his first stop. Upon unloading the basket, he made his way to the family armoury and set down what Thor had given him.

He wanted to cry. To weep and scream of how supremely unfair this whole ordeal was. Yet, he knew that he would waste precious time in doing so. Swallowing his rage and tears, Loki set about polishing the armour and sharpening the swords and axe. He disliked such weapons, weapons of brutes who lacked skill and any form of precision.

The sun hung at midpoint when at last the armour was completed and the weapons were sharpened. Satisfied, he smiled at his reflection in the metal and lifted them to carry them back to Thor.

It was a crash from the very rooms he was headed towards that made him freeze momentarily in his tracks.

"You stupid wench!" Came Thor's very distinct bellow. "How could you have been so clumsy?"

His heart was in his throat and thinking of very little else, Loki darted into the rooms and felt his eyes widen at the scene before him. Odelle was on her knees as she proceeded to gather up the shattered remains of the Lord's lunch. Even from where he stood, he saw the tears that had begun to stream down her cheeks. Quickly setting the armour and weapons aside, he went to her.

"Odelle?" He said softly, "what happened?"

"Are you blind?" Thor snapped from above them, glaring down at the pair. "The stupid cow-"

"Go," Loki urged her softly, nodding towards the open door.

"Are you certain?" Odelle asked fearfully, a hiccup escaping at the last word.

Loki smiled warmly and nodded. "I will be but a moment," he assured her.

The moment Odelle disappeared out the door, Loki stood and faced his step-brother directly. "You will never speak to her again in such a manner, is that understood?"

Thor stared at him. "You would dare to give me orders?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. "You may treat me however you wish, but I will not tolerate you treating my staff in that way while under my roof."

A shocked laugh escaped Thor, but as he made to storm past him, he was stopped by a strong grip on his wrist. Looking down, he saw that it was Loki's hand. The strength in that slender hand surprised him. "Get your filthy hand off me," he snarled.

Loki was not deterred. His grip tightened. "I have every reason to believe that the mess I walked in on was of your doing," he said calmly. "Odelle has never dropped a thing in all her years of service here. She works hard to ensure your comfort, as do all the other members of staff on this estate."

"How dare you?!"

Loki's green eyes hardened as they met Thor's blue ones. "You would do well to remember that," he replied softly.

"I will not stand for this," Thor hissed and yanked Loki's hand off his arm and pulled the younger man from the room. "HELA?"

Upon hearing her name, Hela poked her head out her door. "Yes?"

"Bring the bow and come to father's study," he explained in a slightly calmer voice. Not waiting for his sister, Thor continued, pulling Loki along behind him.

It did not take Hela long to catch up to them and together they entered the General's study.

"What is the meaning of this?" Njal demanded, standing up as the trio entered.

"Ask _him,"_ Thor hissed, throwing Loki forward with such force that he landed on his knees.

"Well?" Njal asked, standing over him. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Loki said nothing and chose to keep his focus on the ground.

Behind him, Thor huffed impatiently. "He interfered in the disciplining of a maid," he explained. "Got all high and mighty he did. Saying that they were _his_ staff."

"Is this true?" Njal asked, narrowing his eyes when Loki looked up and met his gaze head on. 

"I have no reason to lie," he replied calmly. "They were put under my charge and care by my mother."

The General's nostrils flared at those words. Stretching his hand out, he wordlessly asked Hela for the bow. Keeping his eyes locked with Loki's, he held the bow with both hands for a short moment, then raised it over his raised knee and broke it in two.

Such a cry issued from Loki that none had ever heard. Thor and Hela leapt foward just in time to stop him from attacking the General. His snarls became feral in nature and his hands became as claws were.

With a cruel smile, Njal threw the broken bow into the hearth and held the candle flame to the wood.

"No," Loki pleaded, holding out a trembling hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Please, do not-" the moment the fire caught on the wood, his struggles increased as he sought to reach the burning bow.

When at last they released him, all that remained was ash and coal. Whimpering, he fell to his knees and crawled to the hearth, plunging his hands into the small pile of grey. "Why?" He choked out, looking at the General. "Why?"

"Because it is time you learnt your place," Njal replied as though it were obvious. "And with such appalling behaviour from you, I cannot possibly allow you to come with us tomorrow."

"No," he gasped, scrambling to his feet, a piece of charred wood clutched in his left hand. "No, please, you cannot-"

"I can," Njal cut him off and nodded to his children. "And I will. Your mother is dead, you will never return to that life." Looking to his children as they took hold of a shocked Loki, he said, "take him to the cellar and be sure to tell the staff that they face the loss of their jobs should they help him."

"Yes, father," Hela and Thor replied.

"Excellent, now go."

~ ~ ~

The Palace was far from peaceful. Preparations were in full swing for the upcoming events.

Y/N however, was decidedly not in a festive mood. She had been summoned by her father and now stood awaiting him in the vast and empty throne room. Her feet echoed as she walked in laps around the cavernous space. Her [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420172875/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) trailed behind her in waves of blue and airy material.

The opening and closing of the looming doors brought her wandering to a halt. "Father," she greeted, inclining her head.

"Y/N," Odin replied, motioning for her to follow him to one of the many balconies.

Curious, she fell into step beside him and said nothing until they overlooked the realm as far as they could see. "So beautiful," she breathed, smiling. She would never tire of the sight.

"Indeed it is," the King agreed and turned to his daughter. "One day you shall be Queen and all of this will be under your rule and care."

It was truly a daunting thought and Y/N was glad that it was still some time before she inherited the throne. "I know," she whispered.

"Do you?"

Her eyes widened at his question. "Of course I do, father. From my earliest days I was taught what was expected of me and what would become of me."

"Then why do you continue to act with such unruliness? The behaviour you display is more suited to a child of the commonfolk, not of two monarchs."

The Princess groaned. "Did you call me here to scold me like a child?" She asked, looking over the realm. "Tomorrow will mark the first of three days in which I am to choose my life mate. It is what you wanted, is it not?"

"Not in the way I wish it," Odin replied. "But yes."

"It is I who must be married, father," Y/N said, looking over to him. "Therefore it is only right that I should choose the manner in which I am to decide who is suitable."

Odin groaned at her words and rubbed his temple. If he had a son, this would not be so complicated.

"But you do not," Y/N said, making him realise that he had said those words aloud. "You do not have a son and the realm has no Prince." Her chest heaved as suppressed emotions began to bubble to the surface. "I know that I am not what you wanted, but I am what you have."

"Y/N-"

"Tell me I am wrong," she whispered, not bothering to hide her tears. "Tell me that you do not wish for a son that ought to stand before you instead of me."

Odin said nothing.

"I knew it," she muttered, nodding and smiling sadly. "But I had hoped to be wrong." With those words and in a swirl of blue, she departed, hurrying from the throne room.

Frigga had to step back in order for Y/N not to run right into her. Her daughter's obvious distress alarmed her. Summoning a nearby guard, she had him bring Celeste to her.

"Your Majesty?" Celeste greeted as soon as the guard left her with the Queen.

"Celeste, you are here, excellent," Frigga said. "I need you to go to Y/N. She has just passed me by and was in such a state that I fear for what she might do."

Alarmed, Celeste schooled her features into a neutral expression. "I shall go to her, Your Majesty," she assured her. "And I will bring her back."

Nodding, Frigga watched the maid go and contemplated the clarity of such a decision. Y/N had not yet forgiven Celeste.

Celeste ran for all she was worth as she followed the quickly disappearing form of the Princess. Hiking up her skirts, she cursed under her breath as Y/N vanished from sight. "Oh brilliant," she muttered as she realised just where the Princess was headed.

The rainbow bridge.

Fear for her mistress spurred her movements and had her ignoring the burning in the muscles in her legs. She stumbled however, when an agonised cry tore through the air. The air rippled with the aftershocks of the Princess's magic. That sound had come from her, Celeste was sure of it.

Regaining her footing, she continued to run, coming at last to the bridge. Countless colours pulsed beneath her feet. Looking over the long structure, she finally saw her, crouched by the bridge's edge. Celeste felt all the blood leave her head when she saw Y/N stand and make no move to step away from the edge. Her gown and hair fluttered around her.

"No," Celeste gasped and leapt forward. Her feet took across the crystalline surface and towards the Princess. "Mistress please don't," she cried out, reaching out and desperately taking hold of one of Y/N's hands, pulling her away from the edge.

Y/N stumbled from the momentum and looked down to find her maid standing there. "Celeste?" She asked softly.

"Yes," the maid replied, breathing heavily and fighting the urge to embrace the woman before her.

Before Celeste could say a word more, it was Y/N who pulled her into a tight, crushing hug and buried her face in her shoulder and wept. Her tears soaking the fabric as her shoulders heaved. Her grip became vice-like as she fell apart.


	18. The Dark Prince

The sun had not yet risen and the realm was still bathed in darkness as the Erikson family carriage left the estate behind. They had woken the entire household, even going so far as to invite them all to line up by the front porch to wave them off.

All of them, save for one.

Down in the cellars, he heard them. There was no use in fighting anymore. No use in trying to remain strong. The pretense was over and all he had left was a small lump of burnt wood. The last thing he had of his family, of his life before. So he wept, against the farthest wall. The dark hid his tears and swallowed his cries. He had been foolish to hope, to believe that one day everything might be right again.

"I am so sorry, mother," he whispered. "I know that I promised I would be strong, but I cannot. No longer." Curling in on himself, he clutched the charred wood close. "Forgive me, mother."

Viola heard him as she crouched by the cellar window. All the estate knew what had happened in the General's study. Making her decision, she nodded and stood. Walking back into the kitchens, she waved over Ellaria, Emaya and Odelle. "Girls, we have work to do. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Emaya asked softly as they left the kitchens behind.

"No clue," Odelle whispered back.

Soon they came to a stairwell that went well beneath the house and the three maids looked at each other. Why they were headed to the cellars, they could only guess. Their surprise was heightened when Viola produced a set of keys out of seemingly thin air.

"How did you-?" Ellaria began to ask, but was cut off by a smirk from Viola.

"I have my ways," the cook replied, winking before turning the key in the heavy padlock. "Now, come along."

Neither of the maids had ever ventured this far and stepped gingerly into the dimly lit room beyond. While their wide eyes took in all they could, they did not notice Viola making straight for the back of the vast room.

Viola sighed upon seeing him. Never had she seen anyone look as defeated and resigned as he did now. Approaching him, she knelt before him and gently swiped the tear tracks away. Her touch, as light as it was, drew his attention to her. "Viola?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes."

"Why are you here?" He asked, his voice hoarse and eyes reddened from weeping.

"Because we do not have as much time as I had originally planned," she replied and grinned when he canted his head in confusion.

"Time for what?"

"To get you to the tournament of course," Viola explained, laughing softly.

Loki shook his head and looked away. "I will not be going," he whispered and Viola felt her heart wrench at the tremble in his voice.

"Nonsense," she said, gently directing his attention back to her. "Do not tell me that you no longer wish to go."

"It matters not what I wish for," he muttered and looked down at his hand, closed over the last true possession he had.

Viola's eyes followed his and cupped his hands with her own. "Of course it does."

"How?" He asked, his eyes holding a hint of desperation. "How does it matter? I have nothing left."

"That is not strictly true, though is it?" Viola murmured and gently opened his hands, taking the lump of burnt wood and cradling it in her own. "You have this."

When he laughed, it was soft and sad. "And what is that?" He asked in return. "The last true thing I had of my parents and my life before all of this. It is gone now, burnt to ash like my father's bow."

Viola said nothing as she closed her hands over what she held. After a moment, she spoke again. "Then what might this be?" She asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Loki firmly believed he was imagining things. In Viola's hands was a bow, a perfect replica of his father's. "How did you-?" He breathed, awestruck. "Is this a trick?"

Shaking her head, she offered the restored weapon to him. "It is all quite real, I can assure you."

With trembling hands, Loki reached out and gasped softly when the wood touched his hands. Smooth, curved and oiled to perfection. It was as beautiful as he remembered. "How?" He whispered, eyes trained on the bow in his hands.

"I have my ways," Viola replied, a light sparkle of blue emanating from her fingertips. She smiled as she saw realisation dawn in his eyes.

"You wield seidr?" Loki asked disbelievingly.

"Indeed I do, young master," she answered, meeting his stare. "I have done for some time now."

"Why did you never tell me?"

At his words Viola chuckled and patted his arm. "Because you did not need to know. But now you do."

"Did my mother know?" Loki asked, absently running his hands over the wood.

Viola nodded. "Indeed she did." Coughing lightly, she cleared her throat and stood up, holding out a hand for him to take.

Loki knew what she was asking and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I will not force you to go," Viola sighed. "But please, please do not say you have given up."

"Given up?" Loki echoed, looking up at her.

"Answer me but one question," Viola said, hand still outstretched. "Will you be able to stomach seeing her marry Thor?"

A moment passed. Then another and then yet another. Then, he finally moved, using the wall as support to stand. There was a determination in his eyes that made Viola smile. "I would sooner die, than allow that to come to pass."

Relieved, Viola looked over her shoulder and called to the wandering maids. "Ellaria? Emaya? Odelle?"

The sound of pattering feet, combined with muttered words soon reached them. Soon all three maids stood before them.

"Just where have you been?" Viola asked, "the cellars are not that large."

The maids said nothing, simply shuffling their feet and looking sheepishly away from Viola's piercing gaze.

"Never mind that now," she said, "we are late as it is. Odelle," she said, turning to the maid, "go to the stables and have the stablemaster prepare the young master's horse."

Nodding, Odelle darted from the cellar, taking the steps two at a time.

"Ellaria and Emaya," she addressed them next, "the two of you will attend the tournament with the young master."

"We will?" Both asked at the same time.

"Indeed," Viola replied, smirking as she gave a little wave of her hand. "Only, you will appear and sound different."

Loki blinked, before him stood, not two kitchen maids, but rather two young men. Each was attired in dark green that was accented with gold and black.

"A lord must have his attendants, no?" Viola said, clearly pleased with her work.

"Is this permanent?" Emaya asked, looking shocked at how much deeper her voice sounded.

Viola shook her head. "No, these are merely illusions. Now," she murmured, turning to Loki himself. "Something elegant, yet still functional, ah yes, I have it."

A strange sensation overcame him and as he watched, a faint wave of blue opalescent light washed over him. When at last it faded away, he looked down at himself. Gone were the overly mended tunic and leggings that had more patches than he could count. In their place was an [ensemble](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/751467887806053037/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) of olive green and black leather. His golden cuffs were hidden by leather arm guards and the deformity of his left hand was hidden beneath an archer's glove.

"Much better," Viola praised, nodding. "Now, for the final touches..."

What they were, Loki did not know. At least until he was brought a looking glass. His cropped hair was once more so long that it hung just past his shoulders and was secured with a golden ribbon. Gone was the hollow, starved appearance and his eyes were rimmed with kohl, the green of them becoming all the more vibrant for it.

"Come along now," Viola urged the trio, ushering them towards the stairs and herded them to the stables, where Odelle waited with Loki's horse. The creature greeted him with a soft whinny.

The sun was only just beginning to rise as he swung himself up into the saddle, his quiver and bow strapped securely to his back.

"I cannot thank you enough," he said, reaching down to clasp Viola's hands. "Truly."

The cook smiled and patted his hand. "You are most welcome, dear boy. But there is one last thing you must remember, these illusions will only hold until midday. After that, all shall return to how they were before."

"I understand," he replied, smiling. "It will be more than enough time." Pulling up the black scarf to cover the lower half of his face, he nodded to the maids-turned-manservants and with that, they departed.

If there was but one thing Y/N was grateful for that day, it would be the erection of the numerous tents. Under one of which, she now sat. Her mother sat beside her, her father beside her, with Celeste on her other side.

The sheer number of competitors overwhelmed her. The men had been most surprised and confused when, as the sun's first rays touched the realm, she was there, bow raised and arrow aimed.

None had thus far matched the shot she had made, dead centre. Some were close, much too close for her liking. But never close enough.

Boredom was fast creeping up on her. A grin played with her lips as an idea came to mind. Raising her hand in the most minute manner, she muttered something under her breath. Beside her, Celeste caught wind of what she was planning.

It wasn't long before the fruits of her little endeavor were revealed. The squealing of a noblewoman as she discovered that her bracelet had come alive. The muffled cursing of one of her father's advisors as he found it difficult to stay still as ants crawled up and along his legs and back. Finally, the undignified shriek of a young lady as her hair became a tangle of writhing snakes.

Looking to her mistress, Celeste saw that she was smiling. There was a mischievous twinkle in those e/c eyes. She watched as her smile fell as a certain Lord stepped up to try his luck. Dressed in red, with his golden hair tied back, was Thor. Y/N held her breath as he readied himself to shoot.

Celeste felt the Princess's hand clutch at hers as he released the arrow. When it hit the target, it was announced that he was the closest yet, but still not a match.

Upon the announcement, Y/N let out the breath she had no knowledge of holding and released her maid's hand. Her head rested against her seat and her eyes were closed in an expression of relief.

"Was he the last?" She asked whomever was listening.

"I believe so," Frigga replied, looking over to her daughter and shaking her head, laughing softly.

"Thank goodness I set for it to be three days," Y/N muttered, making ready to rise.

A commotion by the field's entry caught her attention, even more so when all fell silent. Y/N watched with curiosity as the crowd parted to reveal a latecomer. From where she stood, she could distinguish no familiar features, though it was the bow he carried that had her stumbling forward.

No introduction was given as to who he was.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Loki took a deep breath and drew an arrow from the quiver. He could feel her watching him, her gaze burning into the back of his head like a brand. Nocking an arrow to the bow, he lifted the weapon into position and in that moment, he swore he heard a stuttered gasp from where she stood. The sun glinted off the sharpened arrowhead as he aimed. There, he could see it, her arrow. A marker for all those that had come before him.

Upon releasing the breath, he released the arrow too.

He watched as it sailed through the air and lodged itself not next to her arrow, but in it. His arrow had split hers right down the middle.

When the announcement came, Y/N could not believe what she was hearing. There was only ever one man who wielded such a bow, of ebony and golden oak. She raised a trembling hand to conceal her gasp. There was only ever one man who had ever managed to match her so precisely.

The crowd was in an uproar and in the chaos, he slipped away, passing close by her as he did so. In a moment of weakness, he looked up and met her eyes before quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Y/N had become a statue. That archer, that mysterious latecomer. His eyes were the same colour as her emerald [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-dress-tunic-forest-princess). She had been unable to look away, her ears deaf to Celeste's calls and her mother's words. Breaking free, she dove into the crowd and gave chase, determined to find out who he was.

Though the crowd parted for her, she could not find him. "Where are you?" She muttered, spinning in place and looking this way and that.

He was gone.

~ ~ ~

Night came much too quickly for Y/N's taste.

Standing before her mirror, she contemplated her reflection. Her [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420165445/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) was a pale gold and bore tiny crystals that caught on the light with the smallest movement. In her hand, she fiddled with the white mask she was to wear. One day was gone already.

In her mind, she saw him. The archer with the emerald eyes. The one who carried Loki's bow. Would he return the next day? Would he attend the ball that evening?

Shaking her head, she secured the [mask](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420347399/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) and gave herself a last once over. Celeste had left some time before, leaving the Princess to her thoughts.

Stepping out into the corridor, she was greeted by her mother who stood waiting. "Is everything alright, darling?" Frigga asked, as they began to make their way towards the grand hall.

Y/N smiled at her mother. "Quite," she replied softly. "I am simply overwhelmed, that is all."

"That is very understandable," Frigga murmured and lay a gentle hand atop her daughter's.

Soon the chatter of the countless guests reached their ears and Y/N gripped her mother's hand a fraction tighter. With a stiff nod, she motioned for the footman to open the doors to admit them.

The hall fell silent as the Queen and Princess stepped forward. A dais stood at the hall's opposing end with three thrones perched upon it. Odin stood by one, watching with a smile as his wife and daughter approached and took their places.

"Now that Her Majesty and Her Highness have joined us," Odin said, his voice carrying across the chamber with ease. "Let the ball commence."

Soft music filled the air and Y/N found herself smiling absently and nodding politely to the young men that introduced themselves to her, hoping no doubt, to gain the privilege of dancing the first dance with her.

None bore the eyes she sought. None were the man she looked for. The archer who carried himself like a Prince. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father speak with General Njal and she fought the urge to curl her lips. His son Thor had already sought to capture her interest, but to no avail.

The opening of the doors had her blinking in their direction. She was not the only one whose interest had been caught. The hall was silent and the crowd parted. A figure in black stood there, framed by the golden doors. With purpose, he strode forward, head held high.

"Excuse me," Y/N muttered before standing and walking towards this man. She too, lifted her chin and took calming breaths as they neared each other. The closer he came, the more she saw the opulance of his clothing and the intricacy of the mask that covered the top half of his face. Yet, as they finally stood before each other, it was his eyes that made her breath catch. "It is you," she whispered, "the archer who matched me. Your Highness," she greeted him, sweeping into a curtsy.

He responded in kind, his eyes never leaving her. It had been an age since he had last seen her in such a setting. The candle light had fallen in love with her gown and made it shimmer.

Rising from her curtsy, Y/N allowed herself a brief moment of observation. His long dark hair had been neatly pulled back, revealing his striking eyes and angular features. Features she found all too familiar. He had yet to speak to her and she longed to hear it, to hear if it matched with the fantasy before her.

"Your Royal Highness," he said softly, offering a black gloved hand. "Will you allow me the honour of leading you through this, the first..."

"Dance?" She supplied, smiling shyly. His nervousness was clear in the light tremble of his hand and the hesitant, unsure smile he gave her.

"Yes," he replied, laughing softly, "allow me to try again. Will you allow me the great honour of leading you through this, the first dance?"

"You may," she said, placing her hand in his.

The music began slow and gradually built a haunting melody around them. The world fell away for her. His hand in hers and at her waist, holding her close. She could not look away and he held her gaze. They said nothing as they spun over the marble floor, the guests making room for them.

From the thrones, Odin and Frigga watched. Who was this man that had managed to sweep their daughter off her feet in a mere few moments? Frigga smiled as she watched them, something told her that she knew exactly who he was. For who else could capture Y/N's attention in such a way? Who else could elicit such a soft, yet joyful smile from her?

Close by Odin, stood Njal who stood flanked by his children.

"Who is that, father?" Thor asked, eyes on the dark haired man the Princess danced with.

"I do not know," Njal replied. He detested not knowing and this young man had turned the Princess's head. If he was the same man from the tournament, then matters had quickly become complicated.

Holding her like this, close to him, Loki could scarcely believe it to be real. To be dancing with her as he had done countless times before, but now with the whole realm watching. Yet, they fell away as he looked into her eyes. Eyes filled with a painful hope and a sadness that tore at his heart. The way she spun for him, the way he moved around her, they complimented each other. They completed each other.

When the music drew to a close and he held her against him, she spoke in a voice only meant for him. "Come with me." Taking hold of his hand, she pulled him through the crowds, uncaring of the whispers and stares that followed them.

Frigga saw them leave and nodded to Celeste. The maid knew what to do.

Y/N did not stop until they came to a rather secluded part of the Palace grounds. With eyes that shone like stars, she looked up at him and whispered. "Dance with me."

So he took her in his arms and together they danced, slower this time. Her smiles now, were sad and he longed to make her laugh with joy and forget her sorrow.

"Please forgive my actions," she said softly, as they now walked side by side. "I know it is not common practice to run off with one's dance partner with no regard for those around you."

"There is nothing to forgive, Your Highness," he replied.

At his words, she laughed softly and shook her head. "You must think me strange, for asking this of you," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"Strange?" He repeated softly. "Never."

"You are far too kind, my Prince," she said. Pausing for a moment, she glanced around before looking back to him. "If I were to remove my mask," she said, a light tremor in her voice. "Would you remove yours?"

"I fear, Your Highness," he replied, "that doing so, would negate the purpose of a masked ball."

"I know," she sighed. "But there is something I must know, the answer to the question that has been burning in my mind all night long."

"If I were to perhaps know the question?" He asked, smiling softly.

"Who are you?" She breathed. "Are you reality? Do you stand before me in flesh and bone or as simply another phantom my mind has conjured up? Who are you?"

"Who am I?" He whispered, echoing her words. "I believe you already know the answer to that, Your Highness."

"Then you are a phantom," she said, her hands trembling as they hovered close to his face. "For if you are who I believe you to be, then your presence here is but a figment of my mind." She felt tears gather in her eyes. Her hands moved away from his face and were held out in a silent plea.

They danced until midnight when he vanished the moment she turned away. Turning back, she found herself to be alone. The chiming of the clock ringing in her ears. "If I am to go mad, then let it be you who makes me so," she whispered, a smile playing on her lips.


	19. A seed of suspicion

"How did it go?"

Laughing softly, Loki entered the kitchens, the questions unceasing. It seemed as though the entire household staff were there, eager to hear what he had to say.

"Did you see her?"

"What did she wear?

"What was the Palace like?"

"Were there many people?"

Holding up a hand, he hushed them all and smiled. "One at a time please," he said, sitting down in the chair Viola had pulled out for him. The warmth of the fire behind him was comforting. Accepting a cup of tea, he took a sip before cradling it in his hands and looking to the group before him. "It was very beautiful," he continued.

"Just like you remember?"

Loki chuckled and nodded. "Yes," he murmured, eyes distant. "Just as I remember."

"And the Princess?"

Here he smiled and it warmed Viola's heart to see it. His eyes were faraway and his voice was soft, reverent, as he began to speak of her. "Dressed in a pale gold she was," he replied. "With a white mask to cover her face. Golden diamonds twinkled like stars where she wore them in her ears."

The maids sighed at his description, their expressions wistful.

"I had arrived late," he continued, "the whole of the grand hall fell silent when the doors opened to allow my entrance. But I did not see them, for she had captured and held my attention. There she stood, beside her mother on the dais and the world fell away as she crossed the vast room to where I stood."

"Did you dance with her?" One of the footmen asked.

Loki nodded. "I most certainly did, but I'm afraid I made a fool of myself when I asked her." Shaking his head, he looked down at his hands. "I had never felt so full of nerves as I was in that moment. Her smile was shy when she supplied the very word I had forgotten."

Viola looked to where Ellaria stood with Odelle and Emaya. The three maids were listening just as intently as he wove the scene for them.

"Does she dance well?" Odelle piped up, earning a soft chuckle from Viola.

"Very," Loki replied. "I had thought never to see her in such a setting again. She moved with such grace that it was hard to believe she touched the floor at all. But in that moment, it was only us, the music surrounding us in its soft embrace. It came to a close much too soon and I was by no means prepared to let her go, for the way she smiled up at me and the way it felt to hold her close, it all felt as though it were a dream."

A silence settled over the group as his words faded. A silence that was soon shattered as one of the stable hands came crashing into the kitchens with the news that the family was approaching the front gates.

It was chaos and panic. Springing up from his chair and passing his cup to Ellaria, Loki followed Viola back to the cellars. As the lock sounded and he had only the few torches to see anything by, he prayed that all appeared as it should, should the family choose to make sure no one had dared to break the newest rule they had set in place. He hoped and prayed that all appeared as it had when the family had left that afternoon.

Settling against the wall, he examined the small lump of wood in his hands. He could not help but smile at the memory of the bow it had appeared to be that morning. Had she looked for him? He could not help but wonder. It was incredibly selfish, he knew that. But those moments with her, those stolen hours, they had been the happiest and most beautiful he had experienced in quite some time.

"My Prince," he murmured, an echo of her words in the Palace gardens. She had believed him to be a Prince, someone of royal blood. Would she be disgusted and enraged if she knew she had danced with a servant? He had longed to comply with her request and remove the black and golden mask, to feel her hand rest lightly upon his cheek as it had done so many times in the past. To feel her thumb swipe gently over the cut of his cheekbone and the tender skin beneath his eyes.

Would he be so lucky as to see her again? Would the Norns allow such a thing?

Sighing, he rested his cheek against the cold stone of the cellar wall. Even if he did not, he would at least have this one night and the wondrous memories that were created. They would be his escape, a place of refuge.

When the door to the cellars was thrown open, he started.

"See?" Thor's voice boomed as his towering form filled the doorway. "He is still here, just where we left him."

"I cannot see from here," Hela snapped and stepped past her brother. Her heels clicked on the stones as she approached the figure by the far wall. Her elaborate peacock mask hanging from her fingers by its ribbon. Reaching down, she tipped his chin up, their eyes meeting. "You didn't, by any chance, attend the ball tonight?" She asked in a low whisper.

"How could I possibly have managed that?" Loki asked, wincing a little as the tip of her nail pressed into his skin. "It would a feat in and of itself to escape from this place."

Hela smiled as a wolf might smile at its prey. "I thought as much," she murmured and stood up straight. "There is no way in the Nine that you could possibly be the elusive Dark Prince that ensnared the Princess's attention for the whole night and then disappeared without a trace."

"Dark Prince?" Loki repeated, he had to fight to keep from smiling. He rather liked the name.

"Indeed," Hela muttered. "Poor Thor, or any of the other young men didn't stand a chance after she had laid eyes on him."

"It was terribly selfish of him," Thor lamented, coming to join them. "To keep her all to himself. Oh the way he simply pranced his way into the hall, late too!"

Loki hummed in way of reply and hummed absently. The jealousy in Thor's voice made him grin inwardly.

"Although," Thor murmured, running a thoughtful hand over his short beard. "It would only be right for royalty to have the first taste and she is rather beautiful. Though it was hard to see under all that material. But I am certain that she allowed him to see and feel all of it."

Had the two siblings been paying just a little more attention to the man before them, they would have seen how much tighter his fists were clenched, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. His jaw was clenched so tight he feared his teeth might have broken from the force.

How dare Thor imply such a thing?! How dare he tarnish her image and person with such vile assumptions?!

"Come now Thor," Hela tutted. "She is a Princess. Did you not see her maid scurry off after them?"

Loki knew better than to believe that Hela stood on the Princess's side. It was made clear by the small smile she wore and the wink she gave her brother.

Thor's laughter was loud and clear in answer to his sister's words. "Oh pardon me," he said, "yes. She is a rather generous spirit, she no doubt would have shared."

The sibling sniggered as they left the cellars.

Loki was shaking with rage. He cursed himself for his lack of defence on her behalf. His shoulders heaved with every breath he took and all that he saw, bore a blood red tinge. A primal, feral growl tore from his lips as he slammed his right fist into the stone wall. Uncaring of the pain, he did so again, seeing Thor's and Hela's faces. Resting his forehead against the stone, he wept, the tears dropping onto his now bloodied and bruised hand.

"What a weak man I am," he whispered, "to not have the strength and courage to stand up for the one I love." In that moment, he had never hated himself more. Sinking to his knees, he held his injured hand close. "You deserve a stronger man, my love," he said softly. "One more worthy of you than I."

~ ~ ~

Celeste smiled as she carefully slung the Princess's gown over her arms. Y/N had not danced with any of the other men that night. Celeste had watched from the sidelines as she had danced with the mysterious, black clad latecomer. The gold in her gown had matched him to perfection and brought out the gold on his mask.

Like night and day they were.

In her heart, Celeste knew who he was. She knew that the Queen believed it too, for if she had not, she would not have sent her off to make sure the two of them would not be disturbed. It had taken the maid by surprise to see him restored to how he once appeared. There had been a certain wistfulness to the Princess's smile as she had danced with him, not once had she looked away.

Now, as she watched her mistress, Celeste could not help but feel as though the Princess was faraway. As was evident by the way she swayed gently to and fro, her feet mimicking the steps of a dance. The smile she had worn all night had not yet faded, but could Celeste risk the hope that welled up within her? She had misinterpreted her mistress's behaviour once before, she would loath to do so again.

Opting to remain silent, she made for the doors to the chambers. "I wish you good night, mistress," she called softly, hoping to catch Y/N's attention.

"A good night indeed," Y/N murmured, earning a soft laugh from her maid. Letting out a breathy sigh, she closed her eyes. "A very good night."

Shaking her head, Celeste departed, closing the doors softly behind her.

Left alone, Y/N wandered out to her balcony and breathed in the cool night air. The days were slowly cooling as autumn approached. No breeze sprung up this time, no, this time, the air was completely still. It was silent, despite the ongoings of the ball she had left behind. Her father would no doubt be displeased with her for abandoning the guests, but she could not find it within herself to care at present.

_"A dream is a wish your heart makes_   
_When you're fast asleep_   
_In dreams you will lose your heartaches_   
_Whatever you wish for, you keep..."_

The words flowed from her lips in a hopeful whisper, one that spoke of a longing never to be fulfilled and wish never to be granted.

_"Have faith in your dreams and someday  
Your rainbow will come smiling through  
No matter how your heart is grieving  
If you keep on believing  
The dream that you wish will come true."  
_

The moon and stars saw her tears and were witness to how her hands clutched at the stone railing as she wept. If only those words were the truth. If only she were to be granted but one wish, she knew beyond all doubt, what it would be.

"A dream you shall remain," she said, the smooth marble resting against her forehead as she leaned forward. "A desperate wish of a broken heart." Raising her head, she looked up at the stars and smiled faintly. "One day we shall dance among the stars, my love," she whispered. "With all cares forgotten and all love remembered."

Upon reentering her rooms, she made straight for the bed. Settling against the pillows, she pulled the blankets close. But sleep would not come to her, it was driven away by two eyes that looked back at her from behind her closed lids. Green as emeralds they were and held within their enchanting depths, a plea. It tore at her heartstrings and her eyes flew open.

Throwing back the covers, she slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe. There was only one place that would afford her any peace. She cared not if any of the guests would see her, though she doubted any of them would be anywhere near the library.

Cloaking herself as an after thought, Y/N slipped out from her chambers and like a ghost, made her way to the library. The towering shelves welcomed her, as did the fire in the large hearth. As though drawn by an invisible thread, she let her feet take her to the soft couches that sat in a half circle before the fire.

Settling on the one closest to the hearth, Y/N curled her feet beneath her and rested her chin on her hand. The flames danced for her and with a small flick of her hand, the flames transformed into two figures. The swirl of the woman's gown elicited sparks that glowed like fireflies. She would have watched them forever, had her eyes not dropped closed and had her hand not fallen, thus reverting the figures back to flames.

The figures of flame followed her into her dreams, where they became ones of stardust, leaving glittering trails in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of the song are taken from the well known "A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes," from the 2015 live-action adaption.


	20. The moon's silver thread

Sleeping by the fireside had perhaps not been the best decision.

It had consequently led to being woken by a rather frazzled Celeste. Roughly shaken awake, Y/N glared up at her. What little she could register of her surrounds, she saw was still dark. Shifting away from the glaring maid, she groaned upon feeling the stiffness in her neck.

"We are going to be last ones there," Celeste was muttering, already actively pulling her from where she sat. The moment her legs unfolded and circulation returned, she stumbled a few steps before righting herself.

"What has gotten into you?" Y/N demanded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The maid's eyes widened in, had it been any other setting, a comical manner. It was as though she could not quite believe what her mistress had just said. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before any sound came out. "The tournament, Your Highness!"

It took a moment for the Princess to register the meaning of the maid's words. "Oh by the-" she swore, a hand flying to her face.

Celeste found it to be a challenge to keep up with the Princess as she dashed from the library, her nightgown threatening to tangle around her legs while her robe fluttered behind her, having opened during the night.

Together, both maid and Princess crashed into her chambers. The [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/renaissance-memories-dress-with-faux-chemise) Celeste had selected was laid out neatly on the bed. It was of a beautiful blue with red and gold floral embroidery by the hem and bodice.

"Won't the sleeves catch on the bow string?" Y/N asked as they practically tugged the gown on.

"Simply roll them to the elbow," Celeste replied as she laced up the back.

"Good idea."

With hair styled in a simple updo and fittingly attired, Y/N swept from the room, her maid close behind.

The predawn sky was beginning to lighten and already she could hear the crowd that had amassed. Y/N had no doubt that there would be more than the day before. Clutching her bow and arrow tight, she forced herself to slow down. It would not do for the people to see her so. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and stepped out of the Palace and over the short expanse to where the assembled crowd waited.

The faces fell away as the crowd parted for her.

As predicted and anticipated, Odin stood waiting with a none-too-kind look in his one eye. Her rolled sleeves did not go unnoticed and drew a deep sigh from the King.

"The presence of Her Highness shall herald the beginning of the second day," he announced and as the sun's first rays slipped into the sky, Y/N nocked her arrow and lifted her bow. It would not be the centre this time.

The sun glittered off the arrow head as it flew through the air, and danced lightly along its feathers as it became lodged in the target's most outer circle. Narrowing her eyes, Y/N nodded in approval before turning on her heels and heading to where her mother waited. Fighting a yawn, she settled into her seat.

"Sleep a little late did we?" Frigga teased.

"I fell asleep in the library," Y/N replied, rolling her sleeves back down and securing them at the wrists. "Right by the fire."

"That would explain why your movements at the neck are a little stiff," her mother remarked.

"Indeed," Y/N muttered and proceeded to watch and listen as the names of the competitors were announced before they could take their turn. "Are there more than yesterday?" She whispered to her mother.

Frigga shook her head. "I do not believe so, no. Only more spectators. The crowd no doubt has favourites."

The Princess hummed softly.

"Do _you_ have any favourites?" Frigga asked softly.

Y/N glanced at her mother before looking back over the crowd. "No," she replied and lifted her chin.

Behind her, unseen by both Queen and Princess, Celeste smirked. _'Liar,'_ she thought. Already she could see Y/N's head move in a manner that suggested she was searching for someone.

"Not even that latecomer?" Frigga pressed, watching her daughter closely. "The one who split your arrow down the middle?"

"No," Y/N said again, softer this time.

Frigga shared a quick look with Celeste and sighed. "You know what will happen should you fail to make a choice by midnight tomorrow, don't you?"

Y/N nodded and began to rhythmically tap her fingers against the wood of her seat, her rings clacking with every movement. Her mind raced as surely as her heart did. She could not possibly pin the hope of her future happiness on a phantom, no matter how believable he might be.

Arrow after arrow was fired, each missing its mark.

"Why must they insist on targeting the centre?" Y/N grumbled. "Do they not understand that I wish to be _matched?_ I care not if they are better than I, that is not my wish. I simply wish to have an equal, is that so hard to fathom?"

The cheering in the crowd that accompanied every competitor grew to a deafening pitch. Curious, Y/N looked up and groaned upon seeing who it was.

"The Lord Thor, son of the esteemed General Njal Erikson!"

"The closest one yet," she heard her father say. In the corner of her eye, she saw him turn to her. "You would do well to select him, daughter," Odin said.

Y/N said nothing. Grinding her teeth, she forced a smile as Thor bowed before her before taking up his position before the targets. Narrowing her eyes, she murmured something under her breath and watched the young lord.

From where she stood behind her mistress, Celeste saw the Princess's pinky move a fraction, just as she finished muttering those words. It was but a moment later that Thor released the arrow, only to see it miss the target completely and hit instead, a tree not far behind it. "Mistress?" She whispered, seeing the Princess fight a smirk.

"Still the closest, father?" Y/N asked, looking over to Odin. "I'd much rather say it's the farthest."

"Enough of your tricks," the King hissed, not looking her way. "I will not have you meddling."

A defiant fire had been lit within her. Oh, she was not meddling, simply engineering a more favorable outcome. It was her future on the line after all. "Watch me," she muttered and Celeste knew that, by her tone, she had taken the King's warning as a challenge. "I have not yet even properly begun."

Up next was a lord's son, a little older than Thor. Using only her words, she tampered not with the direction of the arrow, but rather the bow itself. As the lord's son made to draw the nocked arrow back, the bowstring snapped.

"Shame," Y/N murmured, running a thoughtful finger over her top lip.

So it passed, it did not matter which rank they held. All fell prey to her 'engineering'. And all throughout it, Celeste had moved to stand beside the Princess. The woman wore a rather satisfied, yet bored expression. But even so, her eyes were restless. The maid saw them dart over the crowd, never settling on one person for too long.

"Who are you looking for, mistress?" Celeste asked, more to indulge her own curiosity.

"No one," Y/N replied, a little too quickly to prove believable.

"He may be a little later today, but I am certain he will come," Celeste said, glancing sidelong at the Princess.

"Who said anything about him?" Y/N snapped, "I told you, I do not search for anyone."

Celeste said nothing, merely humming in reply and watched as her mistress's fingers began to tap out a more agitated rhythm. Her nails began to click against the wood as the morning progressed.

"Darling," Frigga whispered, leaning towards her daughter. "Is anything the matter? You seem a little on edge."

Y/N smiled at her mother and shook her head. "Everything is as it should be, mother." Turning back to the crowd, she sighed. It was foolish of her to hope to see him there, yet she did so anyway.

As the morning crept by, she found herself becoming restless. It was a fruitless endeavor, she ought never to have suggested it. The tricks she played were but a distraction for her wondering mind as it headed down some very dangerous paths. Her lips and voice formed enchantments she did not hear, for try as she might, she could not stop herself from the search. Dare she finally have hope? Surely the archer had been real if her mother had seen him? Y/N remembered well the reaction of the crowd.

There could only be one way to be certain. Summoning the split arrow from the day previous, Y/N saw fit to mend it and twirl it lightly in her hand.

Celeste lifted a brow at the Princess's actions, why in the Nine would she summon the used arrow and fix it? Was she driven that far into boredom? Yet, the look in her eyes was a vigilant one. She was still looking for someone who clearly had not yet shown themselves.

"Will you stop that?" Odin asked, the twirling arrow having reached the edges of his periphery.

"Why?" Y/N replied, eyes trained on the current and thankfully, last competitor. "How else am I to keep my hands occupied? Since you find my _tricks_ ," she lingered on the last word a moment longer before continuing, "so distasteful, here I am."

Before Odin could say a word in reply, the result was called out. Yet another failed attempt.

"There we have it," Y/N sighed, holding the arrow and standing, brushing her gown down with her free hand. "I shall retire before tonight's event." With a small bow to both of her parents and with Celeste following close behind, Y/N stepped out from the shade of the tent.

Celeste remained silent as they walked, the crowd parting for them. She saw the grip Y/N had on the arrow and was she mistaken in seeing the hand shake? She really ought to have seen it coming, walking behind the Princess as she was.

"Oh, I am so very sorry!" Y/N was exclaiming, snatching Celeste's attention to the situation before her. The Princess, it seemed, had walked right into someone. The maid was sure she was imagining things when she saw just who it was Y/N had marched into.

"It is no bother, Your Highness," he was saying, a smile in his voice. His lips and the rest of the lower half of his face was hidden by a black scarf.

"You," Y/N breathed, "you came."

"Indeed," he replied. "Am I too late?"

"No," she said, eyes roving over him as though she were committing his image to memory.

"I am relieved," the archer said and slipped his bow off his shoulder and held it firmly in black-gloved hands.

"Your bow," Y/N whispered, eyeing the weapon with something akin to longing.

In a heartbeat, he gave his reply. "My father's."

In a flash, her eyes looked up and met his. Those eyes, the very same that had robbed her of sleep the night before and sent her to seek refuge in the library. No words came to her as her heart leapt into her throat.

She did not notice him leave. She did not feel the crowd follow him, just as she did not feel their lingering stares and whispers. Tears had gathered in her eyes and distorted her vision before they broke free and fell to her cheeks. Inhaling sharply and shaking her head, Y/N spun on her heels and ran back the way she had come, leaving Celeste to stumble after her.

The crowd was thick, even more so as she fought her way through it.

There, just up ahead. She could see him aim the readied arrow. Along with the gathered crowd, she waited with baited breath as the arrow flew from the bow. When, like the day before, it split her arrow down the middle, her efforts doubled. Pushing and shoving her way through those that did not step aside, Y/N fought her way to where he stood.

But the moment she broke free of the crowds, he was nowhere to be seen. The only indication of his presence was the two imprints of his boots on the grass below her. "No," she whimpered, shaking her head. "Not again."

From the sidelines, Njal and Hela had seen it all. The sheer desperation of the Princess as she wrestled her way through the crowds surprised them. The way she turned this way and that as she evidently looked to see where the archer had gone.

Would Thor have better luck in finding him? Or had he disappeared as he had the day before? No trace and no name, nothing.

~ ~ ~

They had barely waited for the carriage to leave the property.

Viola was down in the cellars in an instant, the maids following at her heels. After Loki had told them of his encounter with the Princess that morning, she had not stopped smiling. They were yet another step closer.

"Well?" Loki asked, smiling as the group approached him. "What miracles have you tonight?"

Pulling him away from the wall he leaned against, Viola stood him in a circle of light created by the torches. With a thoughtful tap to her lips and a confident nod, Viola knew exactly. A light blue light surrounded him, as it had done that morning. Now he stood attired in an [ensemble](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420382126/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) of black, white and silver. The embroidery on the tunic and surcoat was breathtaking and looked to have the very light of the moon sewn into them. The matching [mask](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/614248836670971340/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) was a fine work of black filigree.

"It is time for you to get going," Viola said, breaking him from his observation. "Let us not have a repeat of last night."

Chuckling and fastening the mask, Loki proceeded to lead the small group from the cellars and to the stables where his horse was waiting. "Hey there, girl," he whispered, softly kissing her ebony muzzle before swinging up into the saddle.

"Remember, young master," Viola said, coming to stand beside the horse and looked up at him. "The illusions will only last until midnight."

"I know," Loki replied softly and coughed lightly before smiling down at her and the maids. "I thank you all for this, truly. Words are not enough to convey the gratitude I feel."

"Go," Viola said, feeling herself begin to tear up at his heartfelt words. "Go, dear boy."

Nodding, Loki took hold of the reins and urged his mount into a gallop. The Palace was not far by horseback, only if one walked. The town soon came into view and the glowing Palace right behind it.

Pulling on the reins to slow his mare down, he looked up at the citadel as though for the first time. Though he had attended the night before, he had been much too nervous to _see_ the Palace. It was like a gem, another glittering star in the vast tent of the heavens.

Upon coming into the courtyard and dismounting, he allowed one of the royal stable hands to escort his mount to rest in the stables.

The guards standing by the grand doors bowed as he passed them by. High above him, as he stepped into the Palace itself, the ceilings arched, the curves and angles brought into sharp relief by the countless torches. The polished marble reflected his masked appearance back up at him.

All around him, the Palace bore signs of the opulent festivities taking place. Towering and intricate arrangements of flowers stood at intervals in the corridors leading up to the main hall and garlands dripped from the many archways.

When at last he came to the doors leading to the grand hall, he took a deep breath and let it out before nodding to the guards that swung the doors open. The music faded and the chatter ceased. Once again, all eyes were on him as he stepped into the grand hall.

Looking over the crowd, Loki flinched upon seeing the General and with Hela and Thor right alongside him. Quickly looking away, he finally found her, looking resplendent in a [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/98445941843792104/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) of silver, her matching silver [mask](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/327355466664696166/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) glinting softly in the candle light. She looked to be frozen to the spot as she watched him approach.

Stopping before the trio of thrones, he bowed low before raising his gaze to hers, only to find her already looking directly at him. Extending a hand, he smiled, it was soft, meant only for her.

"The Dark Prince," Y/N murmured as she held his gaze and could not help but return his smile.

"Indeed, Your Highness," he replied. "May I have the honour of leading you through the first dance of the evening?"

"You may," she said, laying her hand atop his outstretched one.

The crowd parted as they made their way into the centre of the vast room. Sighs of envy arose as they began to dance.

Loki saw no one but her as they spun together across the marble floors. He dared not speak as her eyes searched his own. Yet, as he spun her out and reeled her back in, causing her gown to flair, he could keep silent no longer. "The moon herself envies your beauty," he whispered, close to her ear.

Y/N felt her breathing hitch at his words and her heart raced within her. That voice and those eyes, dare she dream awhile longer? "She is a heavenly body," she said in soft reply. "I am not."

"No, my dear," he said as he spun them both. "You are a goddess." With those words, he lifted her into the air, drawing gasps and applause from their audience, but he had eyes only for her.

"When you say such things," she said, stepping seamlessly into the remainder of the dance. "I cannot help but believe you to be the one I lost."

There was an unfathomable sadness in his eyes as he looked down at her. Yet the words he spoke bore no sign of the emotion. "Then, let us make him proud."

When the music drew to a close, Loki was surprised when she took him by the hand. "Come with me," she whispered.

Once more, they left the whispering crowds behind.

The halls were silent as they wandered through them, the soft moonlight mingling with the torches and catching on their clothing. They were standing in one such spot, framed by the stone arches that led into the gardens beyond.

"I fear I am more curious than I was yesterday," Y/N said, looking out across the gardens and picking at her palms, a nervous habit.

Reaching out, Loki held her hand in his and smiled gently. "You wish to know who I am? You wish to know who it is behind this mask?" When she nodded, he sighed and barely managed to refrain from tracing his thumbs over her knuckles. "What if you should not like what is revealed?"

"I do not believe that is possible," she replied kindly. "There is but one way for me to be certain of that." Gently extracting her hands from his grasp, she let her hands hover near his face, feeling his breath on her wrists.

Before he knew what he was doing, he took hold of her left wrist and pressed his lips to the tender skin there.

Y/N was frozen. His lips branded where they touched and she could not miss his trembling breath, nor the shine of tears in his eyes when he looked to her. She opened her mouth to speak when her words were silenced by the chime of the clock's bell tower.

It was then that he let go and stepped back. "I must go," he told her, seeming very reluctant to do so. But he knew the consequences and Viola's words rang clear in his mind. Before she could so much as ask him why, he was swiftly making his way back the way they had come.

The Princess did not move. As her eyes followed him, her right hand clutched her left wrist close. The kiss he had planted there, it was a long-standing tradition of love.


	21. The bleeding heart

After a short while of searching, Celeste found the Princess standing in an empty corridor that overlooked one of the many gardens. Still as a statue she was, staring unblinkingly at the hallway before her.

"Mistress?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N blinked and looked to where her maid stood beside her. "Celeste?"

The maid nodded and noticed with a quirk of her eyebrow, how the Princess appeared to be favouring her left arm, holding it close to her chest. "Have you injured yourself?" She asked softly. "Shall we go to the healers?"

Y/N looked and saw her maid's gaze land on her wrist. "No, no," she replied, shaking her head. "There will be no need for that."

"But your arm-" Celeste began to protest.

"It bears no injury," Y/N said, cutting her off. The maid did not miss how her thumb swiped gently over her wrist, a small smile on her lips. She laughed softly at Celeste's confusion. "I am quite alright, really."

Celeste watched in confused silence as the Princess began to make her way back down the corridor Celeste had just come from. The crystals on her gown sung softly as she moved, the silver fabric flowing out behind her.

Shaking her head, Celeste hurried after her.

Those whom they passed bowed for their Princess and murmured soft greetings, which Celeste suspected went unheard. Her Highness seemed to be in a strange trance, barely acknowledging her surrounds or those they passed.

It was only when they entered her rooms, that she brought herself back to the present and passed Celeste her delicate silver mask. Y/N watched in silence as her maid placed it beside the white one of the night before. It shimmered in the light of the candles.

"One more night," she muttered. "And one more day. One last morning."

Celeste said nothing as she began to help the Princess out of her gown. The resignation in her tone was something Celeste had become familiar with over the last few weeks.

As the Princess was at last attired in her nightgown and seated before her vanity, Celeste took up the task of unpinning the elegant design she had crafted earlier that evening. It was a methodical task and allowed her to think of things other than the Princess's rather odd silence. It was however, when Celeste began to brush through her hair that her silence was broken.

"These last six weeks have been strange for us, haven't they?" Y/N asked, looking at her maid through the mirror.

There was a softness in her voice that Celeste had not heard for much too long. Her hand stilled as she nodded. "Aye, Your Highness," she replied, keeping her eyes down.

When the Princess turned to face her, she stepped back. It surprised her to no end when Y/N held out her hands. "Why do you stand so far away?" Y/N asked and beckoned with her hands. "Come closer, dear girl. Please."

Nodding mutely, Celeste stepped forward and sunk to her knees before the Princess, her hands clasped in Y/N's outstretched ones.

"Tomorrow my fate shall be decided," Y/N murmured. "Midnight tomorrow."

"Indeed," her maid replied softly.

"Though I may not be able to forgive you just yet," Y/N said, gently squeezing the hands she held. "Will you allow me to give you but one piece of advice?"

Wordlessly, Celeste nodded.

"I have seen the way you look at him," Y/N continued, smiling softly. At the question in her maid's eyes, she continued. "Cathán, the weapons master." Her words elicited a light blush from the woman before her. "Have you told him how you feel?"

"How I feel?" Celeste echoed.

"Indeed," Y/N replied. "Have you spoken to him of what lies in your heart?"

The maid shook her head. "I have never found the right words," she whispered. "Nor the time or place for such a thing."

The Princess closed her eyes and shook her head, her grip tightening. "One should never wait for such a thing," she said. "For they will never come. Tell him," she said, opening her eyes and meeting those of her maid. "The next time you see him, tell him."

"Highness?"

Y/N smiled weakly. "I envy you, do you know that?"

"You do?"

The Princess nodded and swallowed hard before continuing. "Take this chance," she said. "When you see him next, please tell him. I beg of you. Do not be a fool as I was. Do not waste the time you have. Do not wait until it is too late. I know he feels the same way, he will not reject you."

"How could you know such a thing?" Celeste breathed, heart racing within her at the mere notion. Yet there was a pain in the Princess's eyes, mixed with a desperate plea.

"I saw the both of you," Y/N replied, "a few weeks ago now, in the gardens below my balcony. Laughing, smiling and barely holding hands. It was a beautiful picture and yet, it made my heart bleed."

"But why?" Celeste asked in a voice so soft she was convinced Y/N had not heard it. Was the Princess not happy for her? Was she that angry with her?

She had heard. "Because what the two of you have, I once did," she said, eyes welling with tears that soon spilled over. "I was once that happy, having him near would do that to me. My heart bled with longing to have that again. I am happy for you, dear girl. But promise me you will tell him and not wait until you can no longer see him. Do not wait as I did. You have a living man, one who will hear your words of love. Do not wait to be like me. One who whispers words of love to the stars in hopes he will hear them."

"Mistress-"

"I beg you," Y/N cut in, her grip became vice like. "Do not wait. Promise me you will tell him. _Promise me."_

"I promise," Celeste whispered, nodding.

"Excellent," Y/N murmured and smiled down at her. "I know he feels the same way. You will be happy together, I am sure of it." The smile was sad and tore at Celeste's heart. "I fear the man I choose will forever play second fiddle to a spirit," she continued. "A ghost. He will forever be compared to someone whom he will never see, to the one, though dead, lives forever in my heart-" the last words were muffled as she bent, her head resting against their joined hands. A choked sob tore from her lips and her shoulders trembled as she wept.

"Oh mistress," Celeste crooned. Freeing her hands from the Princess's grasp, she lay them gently on her bent head and combed the h/c strands with her fingers.

"I have not known peace, not since what you told me," Y/N said suddenly, looking up. "My heart fights with my head, day in and day out. For six weeks I have tried to find a middle ground, but I have had no such luck. My head refuses to believe you, but my heart, oh Norns my heart. It believed every word you said."

"It did?"

"Unfortunately," Y/N muttered, shaking her head and upon standing up, walked to the window. "I have heard things. Seen things that have driven my mind to near madness and it all began with what you said to me." There was no bitterness in her tone, not this time. "In the span of six weeks, my world has been flipped onto its head and I have had to reevaluate something I once believed to be a concrete truth."

Celeste said nothing. She too stood now, but a distance from where her mistress was.

"These two nights past," Y/N continued, though more to herself now. "Have been the happiest in my recent memory. Each of them has felt like a dream that ends too soon. But tonight," she sighed and allowed herself a smile. "Tonight was the most beautiful of them all." Looking down, she cradled her left wrist close to her. "And so very believable too..." the words trailed into silence.

~ ~ ~

"You have but one chance left," Njal told Thor as they entered the manor. "If you do not manage to pry her away from him tomorrow, all will be lost."

"You saw the way he approached her, father," Thor protested. "No one dared step in his way."

"Then you must imitate him," Njal replied. "Be twice as confident as he is, he is graceful and effortlessly elegant, you must be more so. You must go to her before he arrives. Offer her your hand as he did. If she is so taken with his actions, then I am sure she will be taken with you as well."

Beside them, Hela snorted and drew their attention to her.

"You disagree?" Njal asked, folding his hands before him and canting his head to the side.

"Indeed I do," Hela replied and untied her mask. "It is not his actions she is taken with. It is _him._ Everything about him draws her in, you both saw the same as I. The moment he steps into the room, that is when her smile becomes sincere, that is when it gains warmth. It is no longer hollow. It means something."

Njal's eyes narrowed and Thor looked to his father.

"You are implying the impossible," the General hissed.

"Am I?" Hela asked, folding her arms. "You and I saw how she acted during the tournament. We both saw how perfectly this _Dark_ _Prince_ , matched her. Not once, but twice."

"Father?" Thor asked, looking between his sister and their father. "Is she saying what I think she is?"

Njal nodded stiffly. "I believe she is. Though I do not know how this is possible."

Hela smiled thinly. "I would wager, that this _Dark Prince_ is no one other than _him,"_ her lips curled at the thought.

"You and I both know that what you suggest is in no way possible," Thor said. "We both saw his bow burn. We both locked him down there and those cuffs restrain his magic. There is no way in the Nines that he could be this mystery Prince."

"Then who else would it be that the Princess would pay such attention to?" Hela demanded, crossing her arms. "Who else could make her forget every other man in the room? We both know of the connection between those two. It is why we told her what we did-"

"Stop it!" Njal cut in, holding up his hands. "We must be certain and there is but one way to do this. The both of you," he looked to each of his children, "will follow me and we will sort this."

Following their father and refusing to look at each other, Hela and Thor went down to the cellars.

Holding the keys, Njal opened the padlock and opened the door. "LOKI!"

There was the sound of shuffling before the man himself stepped into view, looking to blink sleep from his eyes. "My lord General?" He greeted.

Stepping forward, Njal grasped his cuff-clad forearms. "You will tell me the truth," he said, tightening his grip and watching with satisfaction as the young man winced. "Have you found a way to use that infernal magic of yours despite these?"

Immediately, Loki shook his head. "N-no. Runes such as these cannot have their power broken." _At least not by their wearer,_ but he knew better than to tell them that.

"And this is the truth?" Njal asked, eyes boring into Loki's.

"I have no reason to lie."

"Not even to see your precious Princess?" The General sneered, digging in with his grip. "Thor tells me that she spoke with you in the market a few days before the tournament and that she knew of your hand."

Loki said nothing. For what could he say?

"Well?" Njal hissed. "How could she know of it? Did you bemoan your story to her?" He sneered. "Though I highly doubt she would have believed you."

"She knows not what happened," Loki replied, his voice steadier this time. "She merely offered the aid of her maid when she saw my injured hand. She is not aware of the injury's nature. I swear it."

"Of course she would do such a thing," Hela spat. "I assume you accepted her offer?" When he said nothing, she shook her head. "Pathetic," she muttered.

"Hela is right," Njal said, eyeing his step-son. "You should know better than to accept assistance, _especially_ if it should come from her. Or must we teach that lesson again?"

"No," came the soft reply.

"Now," Njal continued. "As for this _Dark Prince_ , you are not he, are you?"

Loki's eyes widened. "Me?"

Thor laughed at his question. "Father please. He is no Prince, he is not even a lord anymore. Let us forget him in this matter, it is no use."

Releasing his arms, the General stepped back, as though his very presence repulsed him. Loki was sure that it did. As the family made their way back to the cellar entrance, Hela looked back over her shoulder and met his gaze.

Even if the General and Thor let this matter lie, she would not. There was a dark promise in her eyes.

The moment the door was locked and secured, Loki retreated back until he came into contact with the cool stone. Sinking down, he sat on the thin bundle of hay he had accumulated. Unlike his nights in the kitchens, there was no fire to keep him warm down here. Settling as best he could, he closed his eyes. He had dared to kiss her wrist, his brazenness had taken him by surprise, yet he could have done little else. His heart had demanded it of him and who was he to deny it?


	22. A ring of emerald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my God! Okay it's happening. Everybody stay calm, everybody stay calm! STAY FUCKING CALM! EVERYBODY, NOW FUCKING CALM DOWN!" ~ Michael Scott (The Office US)

"This is it," she muttered to herself as her reflection gazed back at her. Smoothing down the dark red fabric of her skirts and adjusting her arm guard, she saw her hands were trembling. Instantly she clenched them together in front of her. She had forgone all the usual trappings of her station and had opted instead for the simple functionality of her training [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-flax-linen-dress-archeress-with-undertunic-and-corset). She could already see her father's frown.

"Mistress?" Came Celeste's soft voice as she passed over the Princess's bow and remaining arrow.

"Where is the arrow I summoned yesterday?" Y/N asked, accepting the items.

Wordlessly, Celeste retrieved the mentioned item and laid it in Y/N's waiting hand.

"Let us go," the Princess said, already moving towards the door. "Let us see if their aims have improved."

The Palace was silent as the two women swept through the halls. Even the servants had been permitted to view the tournament, thus leaving the golden halls empty. Neither of them minded, both preferring the silence over the noise of the crowd that was soon to come.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped out into the courtyard and crossed the expanse until they came to the training grounds. Already from there, one could hear the murmur of the amassed crowds. As the sun had not yet risen, torches lit the way and guided the Princess to where the kingdom waited.

Celeste took her leave as Y/N stepped up to the targets.

Nocking her arrow and lifting the readied weapon into position, Y/N narrowed her eyes. As the sun's first rays lit the sky, she turned her bow so it sat near horizontal and aimed for the bottom most point of the target and let the arrow fly. Behind her, she heard faint whispers as to why she would choose such a point. Why not simply go for the target's centre? She offered the crowd but one smile, it was small and barely there.

Settling in beside her mother, Y/N sighed and rested her head against the chair's back.

"Why choose such an obscure point for the men to match you?" Odin asked, looking over to his daughter.

Y/N did not move to return his gaze. "If they wish to truly match me," she replied, "if they are sincere in their attempts to win my hand, then they will have no qualms in the point I have chosen. I cannot make it easy for them."

"It is as though you wish for them to fail," her father grumbled. "Or the chosen points would not be so difficult."

"I simply wish for the right one to succeed," she said, opening her eyes to watch the competitors try one last time. "If there are no challenges, will there truly be any merit in the victory?"

"Y/N," Frigga murmured, catching her daughter's attention.

"Yes?"

The Queen made no reply, but to simply shake her head.

Catching her mother's meaning, the Princess fell into silence and let the morning slowly pass her by. As with the day before, in her right hand twirled an arrow. Her rings clacked softly against the wood of the shaft in a rhythmic pattern.

When Lord Thor stepped up, Y/N noticed his father and sister for the first time in the attending crowd. When their gazes met, she smiled politely and inclined her head. She knew that the General was eager for Thor to marry into the royal family, the man was less than subtle. "Not if I can help it," she muttered and looked back to where the young lord had readied himself.

"Not today," she said softly. "Nor any other for that matter." She waited up until the last moment before muttering a soft enchantment.

Her words guided the arrow, not to the target he aimed for, but the one beside it.

"Such a shame," she sighed, shaking her head. "Whoever shall be next?"

The one who came after fared no better. Nor the one after him.

From her place behind her mistress, Celeste watched the crowd, but allowed her attention to linger on the Erikson family. The Princess knew not of their horrid mistreatment of Loki, though Celeste both dreaded and looked forward to when she did.

Looking back to her mistress, she saw her twirling of the arrow pause before starting again. The pressure of this day was near insurmountable. One of these men would be her choice and Celeste did not envy her. Every one of them had proven incompetent, well, save for one.

If a choice was not made by the stroke of midnight, then a choice would be made for her. Celeste knew that Y/N dreaded this above all else, to have what little control she had, slip away.

"Are you able to see how many more?" Y/N asked, looking to where Celeste stood.

"Two more, Your Highness," the maid replied.

"Two more," Y/N echoed softly, "two more."

The two that came next were brothers. Twin sons of one of her father's advisors. Thankfully they were not of the same appearance. They were younger than she and were most eager to prove themselves.

Following their introduction, one of the twins stepped up before the targets, not seeing the focused look in the Princess's eyes. While hand twirled the arrow, the other made a simple gesture, much too subtle to be noticed by the untrained eye.

From their place in the spectating crowd, Hela and Njal had a clear view of the royal family. While the King and Queen looked on with interest and anticipation, the Princess wore no such expression. Boredom had settled on her features and it drove Hela to distraction how she played absently with an arrow that, two days past, had been split and rendered completely useless.

It was the slight change in the Princess's expression that intrigued Hela. Y/N's eyes had narrowed a fraction. She saw it too late. The smallest movement from her unoccupied hand and the bow string slackened, causing the arrow to fall miserably to the ground at the young man's feet.

No smile followed the action. There was no look of satisfaction or relief. Not as Hela had expected to find. But it had become clear to her now, the Princess was sabotaging any and all attempts, those she deemed unworthy no doubt.

So it was again with the second twin. The Princess did not relent. She was creative in her methods, Hela begrudgingly gave her that much.

Seidr. The ability to wield it. It was the single, solitary thing she had been born without. Passed down through family, it was rarely acquired through mere teaching. Envy reared its ugly head and contorted her fair features.

The Princess had been born into a life of privilege and was loved by all those she encountered, why must she be given this as well? There she sat, wasting such a precious gift to ensure she got her way.

Hela was shaken from her observation by her father. "Come," he said lowly, glancing sidelong at the royal family. "There is much to be done before tonight. Her Highness is to announce her choice at the ball, we must find your brother." Nodding in time with his words, Hela made to head back to where the family carriage waited when she felt her father's hand stop her.

"Father?" She asked in a hushed tone, looking from where his hand rested on her wrist to his face.

The chatter of the crowd had lulled into a soft whisper and Njal's attention was where everyone's was. Yes indeed, even the attention of the royal family was riveted. But no one's more so than that of the Princess. She was standing now, arrow clutched tight at her side.

"The Dark Prince," Hela muttered, glaring at the back of his dark head. A golden ribbon tied the strands neatly back and surely she was imagining things, for surely that was not the bow she had seen burn but three days ago?

Y/N for her part, had forgotten how to breathe. There he was, ten feet away from her, his back to her. In his hands was a weapon that she knew belonged to but one person. A quiver of arrows was strapped securely to his back. As he made to reach for one, she knew what she had to do. She had to know.

"Celeste," she hissed. "Pass me my bow, _now."_

"Mistress?" Celeste asked, confused. Why in the Nine would she want her bow? What was she planning now?

"Hurry," Y/N whispered harshly.

Retrieving the weapon from where Y/N had carefully rested it, Celeste brought it to her and felt her eyes widen when she nocked the arrow she had been twirling. She raised the weapon and aimed for his back, drawing startled and horrified gasps from the gathered crowd.

"Mistress," Celeste whispered urgently. "What are you doing?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes and tried her damnest to control her thundering heart. "Testing a theory," she murmured in reply. Before Celeste could say a word more, Y/N called out but one word and it was then that maid realised her plan. "Catch!" The arrow was released not a moment later.

The crowd cried out and ducked out of the arrow's way.

Y/N remained frozen in her position and gripped the bow until it seemed her knuckles would burst from the skin. "Please," she muttered, breathing fast and shallow. "Please, please, _please."_

The arrow never hit its mark. Snatched out of the air by a black-gloved hand, it was nocked to the bow in the same fluid move and let loose towards the target. By those who stood close to him, they heard him whisper the words, "and fire."

Y/N barely felt the bow slip from her fingers. Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared. A trembling hand rose to cover her mouth as her knees threatened to give way beneath her. Her vision distorted with tears and she barely heard the gasps of the crowd at seeing such a thing, nor did she hear her parents and Celeste call after her as she dove into the crowd.

Stumbling through the masses, she searched for him. Then she spotted him, not far from her and having broken free of the crowd. Allowing a faint sensation of relief, Y/N tore off after him.

"Wait!" She called, holding up a hand and prayed that no one would see just how violently it shook. "Please, wait!"

Her words went unheard as he mounted his horse, his two attendants right behind him. In a cloud of dust, they departed. Even so, she did not give up. Hiking up her skirts, she ran, calling out as she went. "Wait!"

It was Celeste who finally managed to stop her. Y/N's voice was hoarse and she sagged against Celeste. "Please," she whimpered softly, looking in the direction he had gone.

"Mistress, please," Celeste implored her. "He is gone and the people are staring."

"Let them stare," Y/N muttered, freeing herself and righting her appearance. "For that is all any of them are permitted to do." As she headed back to where her parents waited, she felt the gaze of many brand her, but none more so than the gazes of General Erikson and his two children. Turning in their direction, she merely returned their stare until they looked away.

Satisfied, Y/N stepped up beside her mother and listened with impatience as her father spoke of the ball to come that evening. His words meant little to her. She had made her choice and would not suffer the presence of any of those fools for a moment longer than necessary.

Would he come that night? Would that burning question be answered at long last? Would it be his face beneath the mask?

Dared she have one final night to hope that perhaps her prayers had been heard? Dared she believe that the Fates had been kind to her? Her mind fought and rebelled against that which her heart knew to be true.

~ ~ ~

"You will announce your choice at the stroke of midnight," Odin instructed his daughter as they paused outside her chambers. "Be sure of your selection, daughter. Once a choice is made, it cannot be revoked."

Y/N nodded mutely. Celeste was waiting with her gown and mask inside her chambers. There was still a bit to be done before she made her appearance in the ballroom in just a few short hours.

"I shall leave you to your preparations," Odin said before nodding once and turning on his heel and returning the way they had come.

Grasping the door handle, Y/N opened her chamber doors and made straight for the bathing room where the pleasant scent of her favourite flower drifted out to greet her. Allowing herself a small smile, she entered the tiled room and found that Celeste had already drawn the bath and lit a few select candles. The maid herself was nowhere to be seen.

Stripping down to her skin, the Princess stepped into the marble basin and sighed in contentment before submerging to wet her hair. Upon surfacing, she lay her head back against the cool marble and lifted her hand, watching the water drops glow in the candlelight before dropping down into the water. Turning her palm, she allowed the water to pool before shaping an orb out of the gathered water.

The small ball hovered just above her palm and upon an unspoken command, displayed the scene from that morning on its watery surface. She saw herself fire the arrow and she saw him catch it before letting it loose towards the target, splitting her already-lodged arrow down the middle. "Only one other person knows that game," she whispered as the scene faded and the water ran down her arms. "But can it be?" She murmured, looking up at the ceiling. "Can it truly be? Is this reality? For if this were a dream, I would rather not ever wake."

Celeste had heard her mistress's soft murmurings and had listened for as long as she dared before coughing lightly to announce her presence. "Mistress?"

Turning to look at her maid, Y/N smiled. "I will be but a moment, have you the gown?"

The maid nodded and returned the smile. "Indeed, mistress. I am certain you will approve, the tailor followed your instructions to the very letter."

Grinning in excitement, Y/N stood and delicately stepped out of the bath, accepting the towel Celeste passed her. Her steps were light as she padded into the bedroom, her hair drying during the short journey.

She stopped short when she saw it. It was exactly as she had imagined it. Right through to the intricate golden needlework on the bodice and the tops of the sleeves. Reaching out, she lightly touched the emerald fabric of the skirt and smiled at the softness of the fabric and the fullness of the skirt.

"Beautiful," she murmured, looking over the [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/427138345908425586/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ). "It is perfect."

Celeste hummed happily at the Princess's reaction. The choice in colours had been very specific.

Discarding the towel for the gown, Y/N smiled at her reflection. Her hair still hung loose and unstyled and uncombed. "Do you think he will be there?" She asked absently. "The Dark Prince?"

"I am certain," Celeste replied and was rewarded with a tear-filled smile from her mistress. "What is it?" She asked softly, coming to stand beside her.

"What has happened today, it made me think," Y/N replied. "It gave me hope."

"As well it should," Celeste said, reaching up to smooth her hair. "You deserve it and so much more."

Not an hour later, Y/N stood before the mirror once again, this time with her hair swirled and braided intricately atop her head. A [mask](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420347440/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) of golden filigree and emerald accents had been secured so as not to disturb the hair.

"You look beautiful, mistress," Celeste praised.

"Thank you," came the soft reply. With light touches, Y/N skimmed the gown, allowing her fingers to dance over the fine fabric. This was it, choices would be made this night and she could only hope that she made the right ones.

This time she would enter the ballroom alone, her mother and father would be waiting. Before her, the golden doors loomed and she took a trembling breath before nodding to the guards to open them.

The vast room fell into a soft hush as her presence was noted. Lifting her chin, she stepped forward and continued to do so until she came to stand beside her parents.

Immediately her vision was filled with those that wished for the honour of the first dance. Smiling politely, she greeted each of them.

"Your royal highness," Lord Thor's deep timbre addressed her, as he too, bowed before. As she made to give him the response she had given all the others, he extended his arm, not unlike the Dark Prince had done, two nights past. "Might you do me the honour of allowing me to lead you through your first dance?"

Y/N clenched her jaw. His words were those of another man, one he had been watching closely it would seem. She did not dare to look to her parents. Inclining her head in a small bow, she took his arm. Together they stepped onto the cleared space and the music soon began.

It felt wrong, being in his arms, dancing with him. Y/N found that she could not look at him, though she could feel him watching her. His large hands enveloped hers as they spun across the dancefloor, the music weaving around them. Guiding them.

Njal watched with pride as his son danced with the Princess. The emerald of her gown rankled him, the full skirt flaring out as she spun, the light catching on the gold in both the gown and mask. He had hoped never to see those colours on another living soul.

The Princess's avoidance of his gaze was beginning get to him. She would look anywhere other than in his direction. Thor remembered well how she had smiled up at _him,_ his rival. Just how happy she had looked. There was little of that in her now.

When the music at last drew to a close and the couple took their bow, Y/N's attention was caught by a tall shadow that flashed across the wall by the open doors. A shadow followed by a flash of something gold and black. Her heart was in her throat as she came to realise just who that was.

An apologetic smile at the ready, she turned back to Thor. "I thank you for the dance, my lord, but if you will excuse me?" Without so much as waiting for his reply, Y/N bobbed a quick curtsy before spinning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Weaving her way through the crowd, Y/N at last came to the doors and dashed out into the hallway beyond. Pausing, she looked from side to side, only to see his form becoming smaller towards the left. Picking up her skirts, she gave chase, her heels clicking on the floors as she ran. "Wait!" She called, as she had that morning. Would he listen? Could he hear her? "Please wait!"

He did.

Her chest was heaving with breaths by the time she caught up to him. Gathering herself together, she smiled up at him. "Good evening, your highness."

He returned the greeting, though softer than she.

"Why did you not come into the hall?" Y/N asked, fiddling with her hands. "Why do you make to leave when we have not yet danced?"

Her question brought on a sad smile from him. "You have," he replied.

"Aye," she said, smiling shyly. "But _we_ have not. Will you allow me this? One small favour before my fate is sealed tonight?"

Silently, he nodded and offered her his hand. The music from the hall was too distant for them to make it out. So they danced in silence, with only their heartbeats as the guiding rhythm. Before she knew what she was doing, Y/N leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. "Who are you?" She whispered, eyes locked on their joined hands.

"Ever the curious one," he murmured above her.

Lifting her head, she met his eyes. "My heart seems to know who you are," she replied, a light tremor to her voice. "But my mind refuses to believe it. Before I make my choice known tonight, might I see who lies behind that mask of black and gold?"

A silence stretched out between them as her eyes imparted her plea.

"Are you certain?' He asked softly, gently tracing the line of her jaw with his knuckles. "You may not like what is revealed."

"I am certain that that is impossible," Y/N replied, much like she had the night before.

"Very well," he said and stepped back before reaching up and untying the mask's ribbons. As the mask fell away, he looked up to meet her gaze.

Tears stung her eyes and clouded her vision. Her mouth opened, yet no sound came out and her hands trembled as she reached them out to him. One then retracted as she held it over her mouth, a choked sob breaking free. The tears cascaded down her cheeks as she stared at him. "You-" she finally managed to say. "You-, I-" her throat convulsed and her words were cut off.

"Will you allow me to remove yours?" He asked gently. "So that I might look upon you without the hindrance of a mask?"

Numbly, she nodded and watched as he moved closer. When her mask too fell away, he gingerly cupped her cheek, swiping away what tears he could. More came in their place. It seemed to be this small gesture that broke the trance she had fallen into. With a gasp, she clutched his hand to her cheek and held it there. "You-" she tried again. "I-, real?"

The desperate hope in her eyes broke his heart. "Yes," he replied, fighting tears of his own. "Yes," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her and hold her close.

She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder. "Please-" she whimpered. "Please, be real."

"I am real," he said, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I am here with you."

"How-?" Y/N asked, breaking away to look up at him, her hands shook as she cupped his face, gasping softly as he placed soft kisses to both wrists. "How are you-? I was told-"

"Here," he said softly, taking her right hand and pressing a cool object to her palm. "May this convince you."

Opening her hand, she saw it was a [ring](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/379498706100760412/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ). A very familiar ring, two snakes coming head to head with an emerald between them. "Your family ring," she gasped.

"Indeed," he replied. "I give it to you now so that, come morning, you may know that this was no dream."

"No dream could possibly compare," she whispered, feeling the tears return. "Loki," she said, smiling through her tears.

"My love," he gasped out, reaching for her and pressing his lips to her own. Her whole body curved against his as she responded to his kiss. Her arms curled around his neck as his wound around her waist.

"Please do not go," she said the moment they parted, resting their foreheads together. "Every night you run from me, I could not bare it if you did so again."

A pained looked entered his eyes at her words. "I fear I must," he replied, hating every word. "For reasons I cannot possibly even begin to explain."

"Try?" Y/N asked, "for me?" Her arms moved and her hands drifted down his arms, slowly, savouring the feel and shape of him. "Please-" the rest of her plea was cut short by a frown as she felt something hard beneath the cuff of his tunic. Dread filled her and horror froze the blood in her veins as she pulled the sleeves back. All too familiar golden cuffs winked at her beneath the moonlight. "You-?" She asked, looking to him for confirmation of the horror before her.

Reluctantly, he nodded and looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"When I commissioned three new arrowheads to be made, I saw two moulds on the smithy workbench. I was told that a rather wealthy family had them commissioned for a troublesome servant of theirs," swallowing hard, she continued. "Was that you? Did the blacksmith tell me of you?"

Loki said nothing, merely nodding.

"The young man in the tailors that was there with Lady Hela," Y/N continued, "that was _you?"_

Again, he nodded silently.

"Will you not look at me?" She asked, gently tilting his chin up. Her heart broke at the pain and shame in his eyes. "That young man in the market that I asked Celeste to aid, that was also you?"

"Yes," he replied, barely a whisper and sounding more broken than she had ever heard him.

"You saved me from making a fool of myself," Y/N murmured, "you helped me. I have been a haunted woman since that day. Will you forgive me?" She asked. "Will you forgive me for not recognising you sooner? My ignorance has caused you suffering and I-" her words were soon dissolved into sobs.

Pulling her into an embrace, he rested his cheek atop her head and gently swayed from side to side. "There is nothing to forgive, my darling," he soothed. "But if it shall ease your mind, then you have my forgiveness, as well as my heart."

Y/N smiled against him. "As you have mine," she replied softly.

In the shadows created by the gallery's columns and arches, a third party watched and listened. Having seen and heard all she needed, Hela stepped away in a swirl of peacock feathers. The Princess had clearly made her choice and it would be Hela who would announce it on her behalf.


	23. They came wearing masks

She refused to let go. Even as the clock chimed closer to midnight.

"My love, please," Loki tried to reason with her. "I must go."

"But why?" Y/N asked, clutching his hand tighter. "Why must you run when the Fates have been kind enough to give you back to me?"

Pausing in their walk through the Palace's silent halls, Loki turned to her and smiled as best he could. "It is rather difficult to explain and believe me, my darling, I wish I had the words to tell you. _Everything."_

An idea sparked at his words and Y/N hummed thoughtfully before speaking. "If words will not aid you, may I _see?"_

Loki knew well what she was implying. Letting go of her hand, he turned away.

Y/N frowned at his reaction and moved to stand before him. "What has happened to merit such a reaction?" She asked softly. "What has occurred in these past two years?"

When his eyes met hers, she felt a sharp pain in her chest as her heart twisted. "Many things," he replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Will it hurt to show me?" She asked, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. "Because if so, then let us forget I ever asked such a thi-" her words were silenced as he surged forward and kissed her. This kiss was different, it held the painful combination of longing and hope. 

Breaking away, he held her face with both hands and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closed. "I pray you will not be ashamed," he whispered, "I pray that you will still allow me to love you after you have borne witness."

Y/N was confused and hurt that he believed she would ever reject him. Taking his words as permission, she too closed her eyes and allowed her seidr to flow through to him and into his mind.

_~ They had not gone directly back to the estate after the funeral. The General had the carriage driver redirect. Lost in his grief, Loki did not see the look that was shared between Njal and his children. The moment the carriage stopped and he looked to see a smithy beside them, he knew something was wrong. The blacksmith was understandably surprised._

_"Lord General," he said, bowing. "What service might I do for you?"_

_Loki did not see the smile, but Y/N did. It cold and cruel. "A pair of cuffs," he replied. "A servant of ours has been proving troublesome of late. I would have runes inscribed on them."_

_The blacksmith nodded. "Of course, General. Is this servant with you today?" He asked, looking behind Thor, Loki and Hela._

_"Oh, aye," Njal replied. "He is." Turning, he nodded to Thor and Hela._

_Immediately they took hold of him and brought him forward. "What is the meaning of this?" Loki asked, freeing himself and looking to the General._

_"It is time you earned your place," Njal replied, "you know the workings of the estate better than I. You were raised to care for it, now do so. But," he paused, writing down the desired runes which he gave to the blacksmith. "Without that infernal magic of yours." ~_

Y/N barely had time to take a breath before she was flung into the next memory.

_~ "Your chambers?" Hela asked, laughing softly. "You mean Thor's? This manor is not big enough for all of us to have our own rooms. I am sure Viola can find a place for you." ~_

And so it was. The Princess's hands shook and tears seared their way down her cheeks as she watched two years worth of memories. Two years worth of cruelty and abuse that she could have prevented. But no memory hit her harder than one she herself was in.

_~ The window was small and bore a set of four iron bars. The cooling wind that heralded the oncoming rain blew into the cellars. But he did not feel the blessed cool, he did not feel anything, he only heard._

_It was undeniably her voice. A voice he had not heard for two whole years. "There are many things I did not tell him either," she said in response to Viola's words. "If I could have but one more day, I would say them all."_

_He was sure his knuckles would have torn through the skin as he clung to the bars, pressing himself against them and the wall as though he might phase through them. She was so close. The deep purple of her gown was visible to him._

_"That," he heard Viola say. "I can easily believe."_

_Uncurling his right hand from the bars, he reached out, desperately reaching for the rich fabric. Anything to let her know he was there. But his reach fell short and only the tips of his fingers brushed against her gown as she moved past. ~_

She saw it all. The lashings, the endless stream of tasks that no person could complete on their own. A small whimper escaped her as she saw what the General did to his left hand and her heart broke upon seeing his father's bow snapped and burned.

Their cruelty overwhelmed her and had her stumbling back, away from him, a hand pressed to her mouth as she fought for composure.

Loki sighed as he watched her. She had turned from him and now faced the gardens. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily despite her attempts to calm herself. Her head was bowed and from where he stood, he could hear that her breaths were far from steady. A strangled sob from her shook him from his observation.

"Why do you weep?" He asked softly.

She looked up at his question with incredulity in her eyes. "Why do I weep?" She echoed. "After what I have just seen? How could I not? All that pain and suffering and abuse from those who ought to have been your new family-" she cut herself off and shook her head.

"You weep, for _me?"_

"Yes," she whispered, nodding. "Is that so hard to believe?" Reaching out, she cupped his face with both hands, letting her thumbs trace the elegant line of his cheekbones. "It would take a heart of stone not to break at what you have permitted me to see."

Loki said nothing, relishing in the gentleness of her touch.

"Come with me," Y/N murmured, "come with me."

"I cannot," he replied, not meeting her eyes.

"But why?"

"Because all that you see is an illusion."

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My appearance," he explained, taking her hands in his. "This is not how I truly appear."

"How different can you be?" She asked, searching his eyes with her own. "How different could you possibly look?"

Loki smiled sadly as he regarded her. "You said it yourself. The young man who was with Hela at the tailors. The young man in town who saved you from a rather nasty tumble."

Realisation dawned as she recalled the appearance of that young man. Swallowing past her tears and the lump in her throat, she extracted her hands from his grasp and threw her arms around his neck, rising to her tiptoes. "Your appearance matters little to me, my heart. It is your mind and soul I fell in love with," she whispered, her breath lightly brushing the shell of his ear. "Your beauty is a very welcome addition."

Wrapping his arms around her middle, he held her tight against him, breathing her in. "I love you," he whispered into her hair.

Y/N smiled at his words and carded her fingers through the neatly tied back ebony strands. "As I love you," she said softly. "You had the deftness of a master thief when you stole my heart."

It was the chiming of the clock that startled them apart.

"Please," the Princess said, "come with me as I announce my choice to the realm."

When the clock chimed again, Loki's hands slipped from hers as he stepped back and turned away from her.

Opening her mouth to softly call his name, Y/N found herself silenced as a soft blue light washed over him. Her mouth opened in surprise as the regal attire was swept away, only to be replaced by the clothing of a servant. His hair too, no longer hung just past his shoulders, but barely brushed the top of his neck.

"Look at me," she said softly, "please." In the manner befitting a servant, he turned to her, head bowed. It pained her to seem him so. Reaching out, she gently lifted his chin so their eyes might meet. "Come," she continued, holding out a hand to him. "It is time." A smile curved her lips as she felt his hand slide into hers, a smile that threatened to fall as she felt it tremble. In an act of reassurance, she laced her fingers with his.

The music of the ballroom grew louder the closer they drew, but when the large doors came into view, she felt Loki begin to free his hand and step back. "No," she murmured, tightening her hold. "You belong at my side." She felt the tension within him grow as she nodded to the guards to open the doors.

The room fell silent and all looked in the direction of the newly reappeared Princess. Beside her stood a man who looked to be better suited to scrubbing the floors, not in a ballroom full of nobility and royalty. Whispers rippled out among the crowd as the pair moved past.

Y/N narrowed her eyes when she saw her father's smile and the General standing close by. It was only when they neared the dais that she let go of his hand and dipped into a curtsy. "Mother," she greeted, "father."

"My darling daughter," Odin greeted her, stepping forward and taking both of her hands in his. "Is it really true?"

"That all depends," Y/N replied. "To what are you referring?"

"Why your selection of course," Odin said. "Lady Hela tells me you have selected her brother?"

"Did she just?" Y/N muttered, fighting not to glare at the aforementioned woman. "Did she specify which brother?"

The General, who had been listening in, stepped up. "The only brother she has, Your Highness."

"My dear," Odin continued, "is he truly your choice?"

"I am afraid to say that you have been misinformed," Y/N replied, pulling her hands from where they were trapped between her father's. "You have asked me to make a choice and I have, but not the man that Lady Hela would suggest."

"Then whom else might it be?"

At his question, the Princess smiled and stepped back. "The Lord Loki, son of the late Lady Farbáuti." Her words, though calmly delivered, were as a blow to Njal. Y/N's eyes met his and hardened.

"That is impossible," Odin exclaimed. "He is no longer with us. How can you possibly choose a dead man?"

"Very easily," Y/N said and turned to the young man behind her.

"A servant?" Hela asked, stepping up beside her father. "One of ours no less."

"He is no servant," Y/N hissed, the venom in her words taking Hela by surprise. "You know that as well as I."

"Tell me," it was Frigga who spoke now, her kind eyes directed at the young man standing behind her daughter. "Are you who my daughter claims you to be?"

Y/N held her breath. The whole room held its breath.

When finally he spoke, the words echoed as though shouted. "I am."

"Liar!" Hela spat, starting forward, only to be stopped by her father. "You would dare to impersonate a member of nobility?"

"It is you who is the liar, _Lady_ Hela," Y/N said, "your brother and father too. For was it not you who imparted the tragic news that he had died a mere few hours after his mother?"

"It is the truth," Hela replied, with just a little too much conviction. "This servant has you fooled. I assure you he will be properly dealt with."

Y/N blanched at the mere thought and the images brought to life by her words. "Father," she said instead, turning to the King. "You have asked me to choose and I have."

"Oh daughter," Odin sighed, shaking his head. "You have heard Lady Hela as well as I. He is nought but a servant who sought to elevate himself."

"That is not true!" Y/N protested. "You would believe her over me, your own daughter? You would believe someone who openly lied to the Crown?"

"No lies were spoken," Odin replied. "Now, before this situation develops into something beyond out control, you will calm yourself. General?"

Njal stepped up before the King. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"You may take your leave, take your children with you. The servant too, before my daughter tries to convince us further."

Njal nodded and made to speak when Y/N cut in. "Father no! You cannot do this, you cannot believe them! Please! Must I kneel before you and beg?"

Odin eyed his daughter. "Why do you insist on his defence?"

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N met Loki's gaze. "I love him," she replied, strong and sure. She offered him a small smile, one that he returned, his eyes glistening.

"We will take our leave," Njal said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen. "Hela, Thor, come." Turning to Loki, he snarled, "you too."

"No," came Loki's reply and Y/N felt her heart soar. "I will not."

"What did you say, boy?" Njal hissed, his fists curling. "You belong with us."

"That is where you are wrong," Loki continued, lifting his chin. "I belong with her and I would sooner die than deny my love for her."

Y/N stifled a gasp and met his gaze. The smile she now offered trembled at the edges. When she looked to her father however, there was no change in his expression and her hope faltered. "Mother?" She asked softly, pleadingly turning to the Queen.

"Odin," Frigga said, stepping closer to her husband. "Surely you must see that Y/N speaks the truth, what cause would she have to lie?"

"My dear," Odin replied, laying a gentle hand on her forearm. "Lady Farbáuti was a dear friend, this I know. Please do not let your grief for a friend's passing cloud your judgement." Before Frigga could say a word more, he nodded to the two guards that stood by the dais.

The moment they laid hands on him, Y/N launched herself forward, only to be pulled back by no one other than Celeste. "Let me go," she hissed.

"I cannot do that, mistress," Celeste replied, "you will only make matters worse if you continue to struggle."

"Let me go," Y/N repeated, "or I shall make you."

The threat in her voice was clear, yet the maid did not relent.

"Father, please," Y/N turned once more to the King. "Listen to me, I beg you-"

"I have heard enough from you," Odin snapped. "You will cease in this behaviour and allow the General to handle the personnel of his household."

Setting her jaw, she turned to where the guards had secured a pair of manacles to Loki's slender wrists. "Are those truly necessary?" She asked, freeing herself from Celeste's hold.

"I am afraid so, Your Highness," the guard replied, nodding and took a hold of his bicep, his compatriot doing the same. "King's orders."

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed before turning her attention to Loki himself. "I will fix this," she swore. "I promise you."

Celeste leapt after her mistress as the guards began to lead him away, the General and his children leading the way. "Mistress-"

"No," Y/N hissed, throwing her maid's arms to the side. "No." Lifting her skirts, she ran, crossing the room to where they were, ignoring Celeste's calls and her father's commands. She cared not what the people would say of her. Lashing out with her seidr, she disarmed the guards long enough to gain access and press one last desperate kiss to his lips. She felt him respond the moment their lips touched. Her hands were everywhere, clutching him close to her as her mouth danced with his.

The guards recovered much too quickly and once again took charge and pulled Loki from her. "I love you," he whispered against her lips. "I belong with _you."_

She let out a soft whimper and nodded frantically, feeling the tears escape her eyes. "My heart is yours," she said in soft reply and held his gaze, even as the guards took him from her.

Not a glance did she spare for her parents or for the realm's nobility. Not a word did she say as she too left the ballroom and made for her chambers. Barring the door, she wept. Collapsing in a pool of emerald silk, she wept until no more tears came and only anger remained.


	24. Of moonlight and manacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up my lovelies, there is a bit of a "scene" in this chapter that may prove graphic for some, so please proceed with caution...

Frigga did not hesitate to follow her daughter, gesturing for Celeste to follow.

The doors to Y/N's chambers were closed, as were to be expected, though it was when Celeste reached for the handle, that resistance was felt. A resistance that prevented Celeste's fingers from even coming close to the polished handle.

"There is something stopping me," Celeste muttered, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at the door.

"Allow me," Frigga said, stepping up and placing her hand at the exact point of resistance. "A ward," she murmured thoughtfully, her fingers splaying along the invisible barrier.

"She is shutting us out?" Celeste whispered, eyes wide.

The Queen shook her head. "Not simply us, but the entire realm."

"How long until she decides to let it down?"

Frigga sighed and eyed the doors before them. "I do not know. That is why I must speak with her, she is hurting and no doubt absolutely furious. I need not tell you what a dangerous combination that is."

Wordlessly, Celeste shook her head. The scene from the ballroom would not be forgotten in the near future.

Closing her eyes, Frigga sought out her own seidr to work past her daughter's. Her splayed hands pressed firmly against the ward and her regal head bent slightly towards it in concentration. "It is stronger than I might have imagined..." her words trailed into silence as she channeled more energy into breaking the resistance. "Her anger and pain have made her so."

Time passed them by and Celeste had long since given up on attempting to figure out what time it might have been. She was startled out of her thoughts at the Queen's soft announcement that the ward had been breached. Allowing the Queen to go first, Celeste trailed close behind as they stepped into the suite of rooms beyond.

The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The open balcony doors allowed the evening breeze into the rooms, making the sheer curtains rustle ever so softly. It was dark, no fire had been lit and no candles either. The only source of light came from the soft moonlight that had managed to shine into the rooms, transforming all it touched to silver.

Including the figure on the ground before them.

While Celeste lingered, uncertain, Frigga surged forward and knelt before the crouched form of her daughter. Reaching out, she placed a light hand on her daughter's forearm, alarmed by the slight tremor she found there. "Y/N?" She whispered.

No answer and no movement.

"Y/N?" She tried again, this time adding a little more weight to her touch.

There were no tears in the eyes that looked up. Nor did any stain her cheeks. There was a calm about her that instantly set Celeste on edge, it was a calm that spoke of a seething fury below the surface. "You came," she said, a roughness to her voice that came from one thing only. It betrayed that she had indeed wept, crying out her pain and anger.

"Of course I did," Frigga replied, smiling softly. Reaching out, she made to cup Y/N's cheek when the Princess snatched her hand and held it tight. "Y/N?"

"The first happiness I have felt in recent years and he snatches it away from me," Y/N said, clenching her jaw, thus forcing the words out from behind her teeth. "Why?"

Frigga could think of no answer that could possibly satisfy the young woman before her.

"It is as though he has torn my heart out and now expects me to go on living," Y/N continued, her voice softer now. Meeting her mother's gaze, she sighed. "He will not be coming, will he?"

Frigga shook her head. Odin had made no move to follow her as she had departed from the ballroom. "No," she replied softly, reaching up with her free hand and smoothing her daughter's hair back.

"I made my choice, mother," Y/N said, leaning into the caress. "And I'll be damned if I am kept from honouring it."

There it was, Frigga realised. What had made Y/N tremble so was not grief, but anger. It was not an emotion she displayed often. Knowing not what else to do, she freed her hand from Y/N's grasp and enveloped her daughter in an embrace.

Almost instantly, she laid her head against her mother's chest, hearing her heartbeat below her ear. Both arms came to curl around her mother's waist in a tight grip, as though to assure herself that she was truly there.

So they remained, while Celeste waited in the shadows. The threat Y/N had voiced in the ballroom haunted her mind. It had been the first time in her living memory that the Princess had used her seidr to harm.

The guards had been flung into the crowd, undoubtedly causing injury to those around them. But Y/N had not cared, Celeste remembered that all too clearly. Her Highness had not heard the surprised cries of the crowd or the pained grunts of the guards. She had been singular in her goal and was driven by a force more powerful than Celeste had ever borne witness to.

The enraged commands of the King had gone unheard by his daughter as she embraced her love. Celeste did not know what had occurred for Y/N to come to recognise him. Had they been in any other setting, she might have been happy for them. Now she feared for them.

The King was not pleased with his daughter and Celeste dreaded what would follow this night.

~ ~ ~

The barked command of the General called all members of the estate staff to gather in the kitchens.

The guards from the Palace had accompanied them this far and took their leave once they had entered the kitchens after the family. It had not been difficult to see the unease in the faces of the gathered servants.

Ellaria shared a look with Viola who stood beside her. In her eyes was the very fear and dread that Viola herself was feeling. The sight of the General in the kitchens along with his children was unusual enough. But to see Loki there, between them, with manacles around his wrists, why, it made the blood freeze in her veins. Reaching out as subtly as she could, she took hold of Ellaria's hand, only for the maid to respond with a vengeance.

"Of all the traits I will not tolerate," Njal began, "lying is the one I despise the most."

Ellaria's hand clenched tight around Viola's, her fingers digging in like claws.

"I value honesty above all else," Njal continued, his words causing Viola to growl softly. The man was a hypocrite. "I do not look kindly on those that twist the truth to suit their own selfish pursuits."

_'Describing yourself are we?'_ Viola thought bitterly.

"Up until tonight," the General was saying. "I had firmly believed all of you valued the same as I. It would seem I was wrong, for one of you decided it might be a neat trick to dress as one of us and pose as someone they are not."

Ellaria's grip became as a vice, though Viola barely noticed this. Her eyes were on the young master. At last she knew the meaning of this, the General had discovered him. Loki had not said a word, his eyes were directed to the rough stone floor, his hands folded before him.

"I have heard tell and seen it for myself," Njal said, "that there exist cultures that sever the tongue of the liar, so that they may speak no more and pollute the universe with their lies."

Viola was sure her eyes were as wide as saucers, her free hand trembled and her breathing stuttered within her. She saw the moment Loki realised it too. His folded hands parted and curled into fists and his gaze was now fixed on his step-father.

"Thor," Njal called to his son. "I shall lay a task before you and trust that you shall execute it in a manner that shall make me proud."

"Of course, father," Thor replied, bowing.

Viola started when, upon a nod from Njal, Hela pulled Loki forward and pushed him to his knees. A collective gasp rippled through the small crowd as Loki began to fight back, showing but the second act of defiance in the long two years. Despite the manacles around his wrists, he put up quite the fight, knocking Hela to the ground more than once as he made for the stairwell. Thor and a furious Hela sprung after him, pulling him back and landing in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Njal looked on with contempt as the trio fought. Despite his slight build and restrained hands, Loki was showing that he was more than capable of holding his own against Thor and Hela.

Two against one, hardly a fair fight.

When at last they had managed to hold him down, all three sported split lips and Hela was fast developing a black eye. A smattering of bruises were blooming along Loki's jawline and blood dripped from Thor's broken nose.

"Now that we have managed to get a hold of ourselves," Njal said, stepping forward. "It is high time we proceeded. Thor?"

"Yes, father?"

Njal said nothing as he approached the trio and by silent consensus, took Thor's place. "By the far wall, there is a selection of knives, choose one and bring it back."

Nodding, Thor made off. In his short absence, Loki's struggles renewed. He knew what was coming, he was no fool. "Do not do this," he suddenly said, taking Njal by surprise. "Please-"

"Silence," Njal hissed. "Liars do not deserve to speak."

In spite of the hold the General and Hela had on him, Loki fought to back away as Thor approached them with the knife he had selected. The newly sharpened blade winked wickedly in the firelight.

In an effort to further restrain him, Njal took hold of the back of his head, his large hand grabbing a fistful of dark hair. "Hela," he said, her attention going to him. "Open his mouth and ensure he cannot close it."

Nodding, Hela did as instructed.

"Now, all of you listen and listen closely," Njal said, speaking a little louder so that all might hear him. He noted, with a small sense of satisfaction, how horrified every single one of the servants appeared. Save for Viola, the emotion in her eyes was not fear, but a seething fury. "Let tonight be an example of what should happen if any of you decide to play false with me. Thor, if you will.

Thor advanced with a maniacal gleam in those blue eyes. Reaching out with his free hand, he took hold of Loki's tongue, pulling it so it lay as flat as possible. Still, Loki shook his head in an effort to free himself, but to no avail.

Even from where she stood, Viola could read the desperate pleas in his eyes. Never had she seen such fear.

Pathetic little whimpers escaped his open mouth and his breathing became heavier with each passing second. Trapped between Hela and Njal, he had nowhere to go. The blade was cold as it touched his tongue, a cold that was soon eclipsed by a blinding, white-hot pain. Warm blood flooded his mouth and spilled down his chin and to the floor beneath. He coughed and choked as blood continued to fill his mouth.

Hela and Njal stepped away, looking down at him with disgust. Thor stood beside them, the knife and severed organ in his hands. 

The room was silent, save for Loki's strangled, hacking coughs. Viola made to step forward when Njal pinned them all with a glare. "Aid him and you will wish to lose your tongues." Stepping forward, he knelt before his step-son and took a hold of his chin, forcing the young man to look up. The agony in his eyes was as tangible as the ground beneath them. "I told you once before, that life will never again be yours. If anyone is to marry that girl, it will be Thor."

Curling his lips, Loki spat a mouthful of blood and watched with satisfaction as it sprayed all over the General's face.

"You insolent brat," Njal snapped, throwing him back before backhanding him, causing him to fall to the bloody stones beneath. The glare Loki sent him was downright poisonous. "Thor, Hela, come. Bring him with you."

Hauling Loki to his feet, Thor and Hela followed their father. They did not go to the cellars as they had expected, but outside. It was very early morning, as the sky was beginning to lighten.

At last they came to a halt beside the lake. Confused, the siblings looked to their father.

"Over this way," Njal explained and motioned for them to follow him. They did not stop until they came to the small hut that stood by the lake's edge. It had long since fallen into disrepair. Pushing open the door, Njal stepped inside.

Thor and Hela followed, dragging a barely conscious Loki along with them.

"Over by the far wall," Njal instructed, nodding to the wall furthest from them. Once they had brought him over, Njal took his manacled hands and secured the short chain between them to the wall by an existing nail. At this angle and height, Loki would be forced to remain standing, his arms raised above his head.

"What if the Princess should come looking?" Thor asked as they proceeded to exit the cabin.

"Let her," Njal replied, securely locking the door behind him. "I doubt she will take an interest in a run-down, ramshackle little hut."

From inside the cabin, Loki heard them. Resting his head against the rough wood, he closed his eyes and wept. The tears mixed with the blood and stung the split in his bottom lip. Looking up, he gave the nail a sharp tug, but though old, it held fast. Again and again he tried, each time to no avail.

_'Y/N, oh Y/N,'_ his mind whispered her name. _'There are many things I regret having done, but I could never regret loving you.'_


	25. You are not lost and you are not alone

"Celeste, be a dear and have the carriage prepared."

"Of course, mistress," Celeste replied, bowing and departing.

The moment her maid had disappeared through the doors, Y/N looked down at her left hand. There, on her ring finger, glimmered the ring he had given her. His family ring. Proof that the night before had truly happened. The emerald glittered softly in the late morning light. "I am coming, my love," she whispered and lifted the ring to her lips, tenderly kissing it.

Sweeping from the room, she spared no glance behind her. The light blue fabric of her [gown](https://64.media.tumblr.com/35f474885e0c9cf3b3f76d296342216d/9b1402cf023de2fa-fd/s500x750/04153a85bddd355d85f0e01ed10c7a943cfb2a84.jpg) and sleeves billowed out behind her as she walked, the embellished collar and bodice sparkling with every move she made.

Y/N knew but one thing, her father could not know where she was headed, at least not for the moment. She had not seen him since the night before and was not at all distressed by this. She knew her mother had gone to speak and reason with him.

Coming at last to the main courtyard, she smiled upon seeing the royal carriage waiting for her, six white horses harnessed and ready. Celeste stood waiting dutifully by the open door and smiled upon seeing her mistress. It had been some time since Y/N had attired herself in such regal garments. It would impart her message well, that Celeste knew.

Ensuring her mistress was comfortably seated, Celeste climbed up to sit beside the driver and nodded. "Let us go. The Erikson estate, if you please."

Within the carriage, Y/N watched the town go by, then the landscape. While her eyes looked to the outside, her fingers fiddled with the ring. A strange calmness had taken over, yet she did not feel at peace. A long, deep sigh left her as she allowed her head to rest against the carriage's plush seating. She did not fear the General, as many did, his children she found loathsome, yet it was not disgust she felt towards them. Oh no, it was an anger so fierce that her nerves did not dare rise.

No warning had been sent to alert the family to her arrival. This visit would not be a long one, she had but one goal and she would not leave until it had been accomplished.

It was only when the carriage came at last to a halt, that she was pulled from her thoughts and back to the present. The moment Celeste opened the door, she stepped out, her gown trailing behind her and her tiara sparkling in the warm sun. Nodding and smiling to the footmen by the door, she stepped inside.

Only to come face to face with a very surprised Hela. Y/N watched with satisfaction as the woman became clearly at a loss for words. "Where are your father and brother?"

This question seemed to bring back her ability to speak. "In the study, Your Highness."

"Fetch them," Y/N said, "and be quick about it."

Nodding and muttering to herself, Hela turned on her heels and disappeared up the stairs. The moment she was out of sight, Y/N turned to Celeste. "I need you to do something for me while I speak with them," she said.

"Of course, mistress."

Y/N looked about for a moment before looking back to her maid. "I need you to search the estate, employ the help of the staff if need be, the sooner I have him, the better."

Celeste nodded and placed a hand over her heart. "I will not stop until I have found him, mistress."

The Princess smiled at her words and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know you will, now go, before they get here." As she watched Celeste disappear out the main doors, a trembling breath blew past her lips. It was foolish to deny that she was worried, scared even. Norns knew what horror Njal had committed this time.

The moment she heard the footsteps, she lifted her chin, but did not turn to face them.

"Your Highness," she heard Njal say, evidently out of breath. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Y/N felt her lips curl at his words. "I do not like to be kept waiting," she replied.

"Apologies, Your Highness we-"

"Silence!" She hissed, spinning to face them. "You would stand to greet your future Queen?" A moment passed before the three of them fell to their knees before her. "Much better," she purred, stepping closer. "Now, I have but one question and I sincerely hope you will all answer truthfully."

"Of course, Your Highness," Njal replied, speaking for them all.

"Excellent," Y/N said, smiling in a manner that sent shivers singing along their spines. It was so unlike the beautiful warm ones she was known for. "Now, where is he?"

Silence answered her before they did.

Her patience was waning. Closing her eyes, she let a familiar spell wash over her. It was not one she had used particularly often. Upon opening her eyes, she saw them recoil in horror. So she smiled, pleased and showing to them, teeth that bore points sharper than a needle.

They could not move from her as they would have wished. Her seidr held them in place. Reaching out, she curled her hand around Thor's neck, her talon-like nails threatening to break skin. "I asked you a question," she said, her voice having lost any warmth it may have had. "I suggest you answer."

"You Highness, please-" Hela spoke up, flinching as the Princess's black eyes looked to her. "For whom do you search?"

Y/N smiled at the tremor in Hela's voice and let go of her brother, leaving him coughing. "You know exactly," she replied. "The one to whom this ring belongs," as she spoke, she lifted her left hand, showcasing the ring.

"Neither of us have seen that ring before today," Njal said.

The Princess hissed and delivered a sound blow to his face, her long nails raking over his cheek, leaving bloody gashes. "Do not lie to me," she snarled. "Family rings are buried with their owners, should their owners die. Why then have I this one?"

Before he could clutch his bleeding cheek, Y/N reached out and took his chin between her long nails. "You will tell me the truth," she said to him, face inches from his own. "You will tell me everything or I will rip the truth from you, piece by piece."

A look of horror entered the General's eyes, his children fighting their invisible bonds to get to him. A horrible smile contorted the Princess's changed features. "Still no answer? Very well." Closing her eyes, Y/N held his head with both hands, nails lightly digging in. She felt him struggle beneath her, but she held fast.

Hela and Thor watched in shock and horror as their father struggled against the Princess's hold. She was stronger than her appearance suggested. Her [demonic features](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/604467581211024758/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ) were something out of a night terror, capable of frightening those who claimed to fear nothing.

Their own voices were silenced, rendering them unable to call for help.

With a sharp gasp from the Princess, she stumbled back, her hand clamped to her mouth, her appearance reverting. Her now e/c eyes were swimming with tears and her chest heaved. Lowering her hand, she glared at the three of them, pinning them to the spot as surely as her seidr that held them there. Shaking her head, her lips moved but no sound came out, stepping back and turning from them, she was violently sick. Her entire frame shook and her hands trembled as she steadied herself against the wall.

When at last she looked up, she met their gazes. "Monsters. The lot of you," she rasped. "You will remain here while I go to him."

"And if we do not?" Thor challenged.

"I challenge you to try," Y/N replied, righting herself. No sooner had she spoken, then Thor did indeed try. His efforts were rewarded with a strong electrical pulse that surged through him, having him fall to the ground, where he writhed in pain. "Try again," she said, her voice colder than the middle of winter. "Try again and the results will only be worsened."

With those words, she swept from the manor.

The moment she was free of the house, she ran as she had never run before. With her skirts bunched in her hands, she made for the lake, calling for Celeste as she went. The maid stepped out of the stables, just in time to see her mistress run past as though pursued by the hordes of Hel.

"Mistress?" She called, running after her.

"I know where he is," Y/N called out over her shoulder.

Celeste figured as much and by the ghastly look on Y/N's face, the situation was far from resolved. "Where is he?"

"By the lake house," the Princess called back.

Celeste mentally slapped herself, she had all but forgotten about that little hut. It ought to have been the first place to search. Shaking her head, she followed her mistress.

With the speed and urgency the Princess displayed, it did not take them long to reach the lake at the far side of the estate. Stumbling to a halt by the shore, Y/N cast a wild glance around, she knew it was pointless to call for him. But she could not resist the urge to do so. With what breath she had left, she opened her mouth and called his name. "LOKI?"

Stumbling along the shore, she did so, again and again. Her tears had broken free and streamed down her cheeks. She did not bother to wipe them away.

Her breathing hitched when her eyes caught sight of the rundown lake house. With renewed energy, she made for the small building, her legs shaking beneath her. Barely making it up the short few steps that led to the door, she called his name one more time, weaker and softer this time. "Loki?" Movement from inside had her ram her shoulder into the door, breaking it open.

A strangled gasp escaped her at the sight before her. He was looking at her as though he could not quite believe she was there. There was a hope in those beloved eyes that Y/N was all too familiar with. With stuttered steps, she approached him, arms reaching forward. Her heart broke at the sight of the blood and how he was barely able to stand. Her eyes were drawn to his raised wrists and reaching up, she rested her hand on the nail and let her seidr flow into it, shattering it and the manacles.

She barely caught him. Sinking to the floor under the added weight, she cradled him close, resting his head in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrapped 'round him as she held him close, gently rocking them both. "I am here," she whispered, her lips brushing over his hairline. "I am here, my sweet love."

In answer to her words, a small sound escaped him and Y/N felt her heart shatter upon realising what he was trying to say. Her name.

"I am so sorry," she whimpered, burying her face in his shoulder. "I am sorry I did not fight harder to keep you by me."

Loki shook his head weakly, causing her to look down at him in confusion. With a violently trembling hand, he reached up and laid it against her cheek, watching her with a fierce love as she held that hand against her, tenderly kissing his wrist.

"You are mine," she whispered against the soft skin. "And I protect what is mine." Her hand travelled down his forearm, fingers resting lightly against the accursed cuff. "Will you allow me to remove these?" She asked, meeting his gaze. She smiled weakly when he nodded. "It may feel a little odd, but it shan't take too long."

The fascination and admiration in his eyes was clear as he watched her concentrate.

Curling her hands around the cuff, she closed her eyes and murmured the words of release. Loki never knew how beautiful the old language could be until he heard it from her. As she spoke the words, the runes glowed to life, resisting her. But their power was no match for hers. Under the onslaught of her power, the metal crumbled and fell from his arm in specks finer than ash.

So she repeated it with the other arm. The skin beneath was mottled and scarred and Y/N could not stop the sob that broke free. "Now you are free," she whispered, smiling despite her tears. "It is all over, you are free of them." Holding him close once more, she pressed a soft kiss to his crown. "I shall take you to the Palace with me." When she received no response, she looked down and saw that his eyes had dropped closed, his head resting over her heart.

Employing the aid of her seidr, she stood and made for the door. Celeste's eyes were bigger than a full moon as she took in the sight before her. Y/N shook her head before Celeste could say anything. "Take one of the horses from the stables," she instructed, "and go to the Palace. Alert Eir to my arrival and have her prepare a bed."

Nodding quickly, Celeste cast one glance at the man in Y/N's arms before dashing off.

Making her way back to the manor, Y/N entered and found the trio right where she had left them. Immediately their attention went to whom she carried. "Yes, look at him," Y/N hissed, "look at what your treatment has reduced him to. The three of you will come with me back to the Palace where you will stand trial."

"Trial?" Njal echoed, laughing. "Your father didn't believe you last night, what makes you think he will now?"

"I have been known to be very persuasive," she replied, "and my mother is speaking to him at the present moment. I shall leave it to your sordid imagination what my father's reaction will be when he finds out that his most favoured General lied not only to his wife and daughter, but to him as well. My father is not known for his mercy, especially to those who act against the crown. Come."

Against their will, they followed her and bore witness to her tenderness as she maneuvered Loki into the carriage. "Back to the Palace if you would," she said to the driver. "Do not concern yourself with these three, they will follow along behind." With those words, she stepped into the carriage and closed the door. 

The moment the door closed, she gathered Loki close again. Holding him as though they might become one. The carriage rocked gently and in time to her fingers carding through his short hair. Her lips did not cease to whisper soft reassurances and words of love.

The surprised and shocked words of the townspeople went largely unheard by her. Her focus was solely on him. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek atop his head. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."

There were healers to greet her when the carriage door finally opened. Stepping out with Loki still in her arms, she looked to Celeste first. "Have the guards escort them to the dungeons."

Nodding, Celeste called over a group of five guards and relayed Y/N's order.

"Your Highness," one of the healers said, bringing her attention back to them. "Lady Eir is waiting."

When they made to take him from her, she shook her head. "I shall carry him, lead the way."

Her tone brokered no argument and forced them to swallow their protests. Nodding, they led the way back into the Palace and to the healing rooms. Y/N barely noticed those they passed, adjusting her hold on him ever so slightly.

"Through here, Your Highness." The words, softly spoken, heralded their arrival to a series of rooms that exuded an air of peace and calm. There was a fragrance in the air that she could not quite place, but found herself quickly becoming fond of.

The moment she entered, Lady Eir descended on her and led her to the prepared bed. The healers watched in silence as she gently lay him down, smoothing his hair once she had done so. "May I stay?" Y/N asked. "I shan't be underfoot, I swear it, please-"

"Of course you may," Eir replied, gently cutting in and placing a soothing hand over her own.

Weak with relief, she sank into the chair that stood at the bedside. Reaching out, she took hold of one of his hands and pressed a firm kiss to the knuckles. She barely noticed it as they began their work, gently cleaning away the blood.

"Highness," Eir called softly as she discovered the most recent of his injuries.

Y/N looked up and saw where the healer was looking and smiled grimly. "I know," she replied softly. "Allow me to heal it? I wish to heal it."

"Are you certain, Highness?" Eir asked, concern etching lines into her brow.

The Princess nodded and stood. "It will take most of my energy, that I know. But I must," she paused, looking down at his prone form. "His voice deserves to be returned to him." Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his forehead.

Eir nodded and sighed. "Very well."

Pulling away, Y/N shared one look with the head healer before holding her hands over his mouth and closed her eyes. It was in this position that Frigga found her. The soft glow of Y/N's seidr surrounded her hands and Loki's head. The Princess's head was bowed and her eyes were tightly closed. Sweat was beading along her forehead and her jaw was tightly clenched.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon when she drew her hands away, swaying where she stood. Stepping forward, Frigga caught her. "Go to your chambers, my darling. Rest."

Stubbornly she shook her head. "I can't, mother. I can't. What if he should wake and I am not here?" Her voice was weak, her hands trembling where they clutched at her mother's gown.

Frigga smiled softly and kissed her forehead. "I shall be here and when he wakes, I shall send for you. I give you my word."

Still, Y/N protested. "Mother, please-"

"Go," Frigga said, cutting her off. "It will do neither of you good while you are in this state."

"Can you bring him to my rooms?" Y/N tried one last time. "I know it isn't proper, but I need him beside me. I need him close."

Frigga nodded. "Hush now, dearest. I shall see to it. Now go."

Stepping away from her mother, Y/N leaned down and brushed her lips over his. "I will see you soon," she whispered. "Never forget that I love you, now and forever."

But the Princess did not go to her chambers. A thought entered her mind and she was more than inclined to see it followed through. Changing direction, she made for the dungeons.

She had never been in this part of the Palace before. Holding her head high despite the bone-deep weariness, Y/N descended into the upper level. The soft glow of the cell barriers reflected off her [tiara](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/722687071447982225/?nic_v2=1a72NmcrJ). She made hardly a sound as she moved between the cells, staunchly ignoring the jeers and calls of the other inmates. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the last cell, in which three figures now stood to attention.

"Come to apologise, _Your Highness?"_ Njal sneered.

Y/N simply smiled and shook her head. "Why should I apologise for doing the correct thing, Njal Erikson?"

"General," he spat.

"You are no General," she replied icily. "Nor is your daughter a Lady or your son a Lord. Ones who hold such stations do not act as the three of you have done."

"You would strip everything from us?" Thor demanded, curling his fists. "Was that little walk through the town not punishment enough? Have we not suffered enough?"

At his words, she threw her head back and laughed. At the sound, the dungeons grew silent. It was a cold, cruel sound. "You speak of suffering as though you know what it is," she snapped. "You know nothing of it. You only know how to inflict it."

"Your Highness," Hela spoke up. "Please-"

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the woman. "Already you beg? You who despises me and my family? You who lied to me and my mother, right to our faces?"

Her words saw Hela throw herself at the barrier, snarling as a wild animal might.

The Princess watched them with disgust. "You took everything from him, abused and tormented him beyond comprehension. Yet you call the mere absence of your wealth and titles, suffering? Oh no," she shook her head. "Believe me when I say, your suffering has not yet even begun."

Her footfalls were the only sound in the silent dungeons as she left them behind.

Looking after her, Njal sighed, leaning heavily against the pillar beside him. It would seem that they had grossly underestimated Her Highness and that below her calm, warm exterior, lay a dragon that just been woken.

"Do we face the axe, father?" Thor asked, kneeling beside Hela.

Njal shook his head and shrugged. "I do not know, my son. Our only hope lies in the Allfather remaining unconvinced."

"What are the chances of that?" Hela asked, looking up to her father.

To that, Njal had no answer. If the Queen had indeed spoken to the King as Y/N said, then their fates were all but decided and they were not long for this world.


	26. Life's dues

The Princess's rooms were draped in darkness when Celeste and the Queen entered them.

The suite of rooms were silent, save for the soft rustling of the balcony curtains as the evening breeze passed through. It was on the bed where they found her, dead to the world and still wearing all she had worn through the day. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of a dreamless sleep. On her back she was, head rolled slightly to the side with one hand curled loosely by her face.

Frigga smiled and shook her head. Skirting around the bed to the unoccupied side, she bent as she gently laid the still-unconscious Loki down by Y/N's side. As a mother would for her son, she smoothed a few errant ebony strands back. He looked almost peaceful, the healers having done all they were able.

Stepping back, she made her way to Y/N's side. "My dear girl," she whispered. "My sweet child." Extending both hands, she lifted the jeweled tiara from her daughter's head, being careful not to wake her. Setting it on the vanity, she turned back to her daughter. Moving to sit on the bed's edge, she laid a gentle hand on Y/N's shoulder, a soft glow beginning to emanate from her hand. Soon the Princess's regal attire melted away, leaving in its place a white [chemise](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/linen-chemise-with-bell-sleeves-and-hand-embroidery-renaissance-memories) with an embroidery of blue flowers along the neckline. Her hair too was loosened from its intricate arrangement.

"There," Frigga murmured, leaning down to brush her lips over Y/N's forehead, warm from sleep. "Sleep you well, my darling."

Together, maid and Queen departed.

"So," Celeste said, the doors closed soundly. "What now, Your Majesty?"

"Now," Frigga replied, "I will continue to speak with my husband. If there is anyone in this realm to whom he will listen, I hope it is I."

Celeste grimaced, remembering the ballroom. The Allfather had not been particularly inclined to listen then. She was brought back to the present by a light touch on her forearm. Looking down, she saw it was the Queen's hand. "Majesty?"

"Your eyes speak your thoughts as clearly as your lips may have done," Frigga said, sporting a small smile. "My husband and daughter share many traits, but the most noticeable of these is that they are not easily persuaded or convinced. It takes great effort and reason to successfully change their minds."

"Has His Majesty shown signs of changing his mind?" Celeste asked, a small flicker of hope in her expression.

Frigga sighed and shook her head. "I fear it may take more than a single conversation or a single day to change his thoughts on the matter."

"What of Her Highness and his Lordship in the time between?" Celeste asked, beginning to fidget. "I fear she will not survive another separation from him. These past two years were a living Hel for her."

"I know," Frigga murmured, nodding before meeting the maid's eyes. "I shall never forget that day for as long as I live."

"She has never once spoken to me of what happened there, never in detail, only the very bare bones."

The Queen smiled sadly and looked to the doors beside them. "It is not my place to say," she replied. "The most I will say is that, while her grief was silent, it was her eyes that spoke of how she truly felt. She had lost a part of herself that day."

"A part that has now been returned?" Celeste asked softly, looking down.

"Let us pray that it is so," the Queen replied.

Within the room, the night passed silently. The Palace fell into a slumber and its thousand voices grew silent. Within the chambers of the Princess, one had awoken. Startled to find herself attired in her night dress, Y/N fought the lingering fatigue and looked over her surroundings.

A soft glimmer caught her eye and she smiled upon seeing her tiara resting on her vanity. Rolling to the side, she slipped from the bed and made her way to the window, the cool air a balm to her warm skin. The balcony was cold under her bare feet and the railing also so under her hands. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the night sky. Exhaling she opened her eyes and smiled at the summer moon. It would be autumn soon, the days were already cooling.

Turning on her heels, Y/N stepped back into her chambers, stopping short as her eyes adjusted to the dark room. For there, on her bed, a short distance from where she herself had been sleeping, was another figure.

Could it be?

Padding over the carpeted floor and skirting to the newly occupied side of the bed, she stopped at the bed's edge and looked down. A smile tugged at her lips as she looked upon him. His eyes were closed, his hands folded serenely over his stomach. Reaching out, she lay one of her own atop his. Absently, her thumb traced soft patterns over his fingers. Withdrawing her hand, Y/N returned to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers. Scooting as close to him as she could without disturbing him, she lay on her side, facing him.

She had her mother to thank for this. That she now knew. Unable to resist, she once more rested one of her hands over his. A sleepy smile curved her lips. His sleeping visage was the last she saw before she once more fell into sleep's embrace.

~ ~ ~

The morning saw Celeste head not to the royal wing, but to the other side of the Palace. The armoury. She was pressed for time, for surely the Princess would be waking soon. But she had to see him. If only for a moment.

Cathán rose before the sun, training with the King's Guard before attending to his duties as weapons master.

Celeste had not taken two steps into the royal armoury when a melodic baritone called to her, taking her by surprise. "A little early for you to be here."

Recovering from her initial shock, Celeste held a hand to her racing heart and smiled in the direction of the voice. "I have a little time before Her Highness wakes, I thought I might pop by."

As her words faded into silence, his towering form emerged from the shadows and approached her. Standing before her, he smiled down at her from his height. "And how is she, the Princess?"

"She is well," Celeste replied, voice a little softer this time. His good eye held her in place, pinning her to the spot. "All recent occurrences considered."

Cathán nodded. "That is good. Although," here he paused, his smile giving way to a rather grave expression.

"Although?" Celeste repeated, pressing for him to continue. "Although, what?" Stepping closer, she placed a gentle hand atop his forearm. "What is it, Cathán? Please tell me."

"I am not certain you will wish to know."

Celeste raised an eyebrow at his reply, her curiosity only growing. "I cannot know that if you do not tell me. Does it concern Her Highness?"

Cathán nodded and took a breath before answering her. "In a manner of speaking."

"What is that meant to mean?"

"Rumours," Cathán explained, looking directly into her eyes. "Ugly rumours surrounding the Princess and a certain, shall we say, rediscovered Lord."

Celeste felt her stomach drop. Folding her arms across her chest, she motioned for him to continue. "Go on."

"I have heard tell that the Princess's defiance of her father has reached new heights," Cathán continued. "That she is so desperate to stand against his wishes, that she has taken a disgraced Lord into her bed."

Celeste heard little as the blood rushed in her ears. Her nails dug into the skin of her arms through her sleeves. She swore, in that moment, that all she saw bore a blood-red tint. "Who-?" She could managed but one word, forcing it out from behind clenched teeth.

"The Lord Fandral is the primary suspect," Cathán murmured.

Celeste scoffed at the name. "Why of course," she muttered, shaking her head. "He too competed for her hand and failed. Something I believe he may not be accustomed to."

"I fear you may be right," her companion replied.

"What of the other two?" Celeste demanded, a sharpness to her tone. "Lady Sif?"

Here he smirked. "Lady Sif? Against it she is. The moment she heard it, why I swear to the four winds that she instilled the meaning of fear into them."

Celeste felt herself smile.

"Even so," Cathán said, "it has not put a stop to the talking. I fear all of the King's Guard know if it now."

Her smile fell. "Curse him," she hissed under her breath.

"Tell me, Celeste," Cathán said softly. "Is there any truth to those rumours?"

Celeste's eyes widened and she took a few steps back, staring up at him. "Of course not!" She exclaimed. "How could there be? He was too weak to walk on his own, so my mistress carried him. He has been unconscious since my mistress found him yesterday afternoon. How Fandral knew of her request to have him in her rooms, is beyond me."

"So, he is there?"

Celeste nodded and sighed. "Her Highness was rather adamant about it. So the Queen told me. It was reportedly a struggle to get her to leave the healing rooms. According to the healers and the Queen herself, Her Highness's exact words were, _"I know it isn't proper, but I need him beside me. I need him close."_ " Pausing, she shook her head and smiled sadly. "I believe she knew of the talking it would spark."

"Yet she did so anyway," Cathán whispered, folding his arms.

"I have read and heard accounts of animals, in particular the great black bear, displaying signs of fierce protection of their young when threatened," Celeste muttered, her eyes distant. "The mothers especially. They become fearsome in their protection of what they consider their own." Looking up, she met Cathán's eye. "Her Highness was like that when she found him. Not letting him out of her sight for even a moment. The healers told me that."

"You did not see it?"

"Only a moment of it," she replied, "when she first found him. She then sent me off to the Palace to alert Lady Eir." Reaching out in a moment of bravery, she took hold of one of his hands and held tight. "Please do not tell me that you believe those filthy lies?"

The look in her eyes knocked the wind from him. Her eyes said the pleas that her lips could not. Gently untangling his hand from hers, Cathán drew her into an embrace, holding her close. "I do not," he said softly, the words meant only for her. Against him, he felt her sag with relief. "But what I do believe is that it may be for the best that Her Highness not learn of these rumours."

Celeste drew back a fraction to look up at him. "Why?"

"Because," he continued, drawing her close again. "I fear her reaction. By what you have told me, Her Highness has endured more than her fair share of trials these two years past."

"I would not have her discover these talkings from anyone aside from me," Celeste murmured. "I believe she deserves to know. She will be angry, that I do not doubt. But rightly so. Those to whom she would direct her anger rightly deserve it. Her anger is silent, it is felt rather than heard. It is felt rather than seen. The room always becomes colder when she displays her anger."

"I did not think she angered often?" Cathán asked, beginning to rub soothing circles on Celeste's back.

"She does not," the maid replied, resting her head against his chest, her arms tightening around him. "There is little that elicits that emotion. There has been very little, until now."

~ ~ ~

When Celeste crept into Y/N's chambers that morning, she stopped short at the sight before her. Her heart tugged at seeing her mistress lightly curled around the prone form of Loki. Her head was resting on his chest, one hand resting atop his, their fingers entwined. It was clear that he had not moved since Her Majesty had lain him down.

But Y/N had. She was under the covers now. Her hair was splayed all around her, some strands having fallen over her face and fluttering lightly with each little exhale.

The maid could not bring herself to wake the Princess just yet. Nodding to herself, she padded to the bathing room and set about drawing Y/N's morning bath. As she did so, Cathán's words came to the forefront of her memory and she cursed silently. No, Y/N would not be told just yet.

But she would be told. She deserved that much.

As Celeste proceeded to add Y/N's favourite floral oil to the steaming water, she had half a mind to confront that weasel Fandral herself. She knew that he had never appreciated Y/N's rebuffs of his advances, a dislike that had grown over the years. Somehow, Celeste could be entirely honest with herself when she believed this to be below even him.

Waking the Princess proved to be a little more difficult than previous times. She did not seem at all surprised or mortified at the position that Celeste found her in. In fact, that was where she had wanted to remain.

"He shall still be here when you return," Celeste reasoned. "You will simply be in the next room and besides, I shall be here and if he wakes, I will tell you."

After a moment, Y/N finally relented, but not before leaning over and brushing her lips over his in a feather-light kiss. Slipping from the bed, she stepped into the bathing room and disrobed before stepping into the bath.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes before completely submerging. Upon opening her eyes, she saw the shapes of the flowers that Celeste had scattered in the water.

Resurfacing with a small gasp, Y/N leaned back, her head resting against the cool marble. She would not leave her chambers today, she could hear Celeste and her mother now. Smiling softly, she sent a silent thanks to her mother, she had come through as Y/N had hoped she would.

Only once the water had begun to grow cold did she call for Celeste.

Bundled up in a towel, she reentered her rooms. Celeste it turned out, had selected a rather simple white [gown](https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/snow-white-chemise) for her. It bore no embellishments or embroidery, the elbow-length sleeves puffing out lightly. "I shan't be leaving my rooms today," she said as Celeste helped her into it.

"Why do you think I selected this one?" The maid asked, flashing a smile. Sitting by the vanity, Y/N smiled at her maid through the mirror before passing her the comb.

~ ~ ~

The dungeons had not borne such an air of unease as they did now. The inmates muttered amongst themselves. But none more so than the three remaining members of the Erikson family. They had quickly become the talk of the dungeons. Many wanted to know what had occurred for such a favoured family to wind up lodging with Asgard's most dangerous criminals.

All had seen the Princess speak with them, holding her head high, her e/c eyes piercing. Comments and questions had been thrown their way after she had left, carrying any warmth with her. The dungeons had carried an uncomfortable, unnatural cold ever since.

None could forget the chilling sound of her laughter. It had silenced all chatter, even the guards on duty had halted in their patrols and assignments. The news of the Princess's visit had no doubt reached the King, hence the unbearable tension.

A tension that grew as the dungeons received another visitor. Twas not the King, but the Queen herself. Behind her marched six guards. At a small gesture from the Queen, the guards stepped back, allowing her to proceed to the desired cell alone. Although, they did not remain far behind.

The family stood to attention at the sight of the Queen before them, Hela dipped into a low curtsy. "Your Majesty," she said, keeping her eyes lowered. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Let us skip the pleasantries, Hela," Frigga said, her kind eyes hardening. "I trust you all know as to your reason for being here?"

"Indeed," Thor spoke up, bowing before continuing. "At least, from Her Highness's _'reasoning'."_

Frigga raised an eyebrow, "go on," she said, the warmth leeching from her voice. The man's disrespect for her daughter's rank was blindingly obvious. Those two words bore a warning that Thor did not comprehend. 

A warning that Njal heard all too clearly, Hela too. Both motioned for Thor to cease his imminent tirade, but he took no notice of them. "It would seem as though her long standing infatuation with my _brother,"_ his lips curled as though in distaste before continuing. "Has clouded her mind and impeded her judgement, so much so that she would dare to have us imprisoned. All on the account of that power hungry snake that I have the unfortunate obligation to call my brother."

"I would strongly advise you to watch your tongue," Frigga said, her voice like ice. "For in your slander of my daughter, you slander me and the Allfather, all of Asgard for that matter."

Thor was too far gone to heed her warning. "He has wormed his way into her head as surely as he has into her bed!"

That was it. A stroke and a word too far. Frigga's famed composure was fast slipping through her fingers. Lifting her chin, she met his sky-blue gaze. "Is there anything else that you would like to add?"

When Thor opened his mouth however, she sent a bolt of her own seidr through, closing his mouth.

"The question was rhetorical," she continued in the face of his confusion and surprise. "I care not for a single poisonous word that issues from your lips. You and your treacherous family have done quite enough." With those words, she allowed streams of warm, golden light to pour from her palms and into the cell, wrapping themselves around Njal and his son. "Tell me, Njal, have you ever witnessed the torture of one you love?"

The calmness in her voice alerted the former General and his children. "Majesty-" he began, struggling against the bonds.

"I have," Frigga said, coldly cutting him off. "For two years. Two whole years I was witness to the mental and emotional agony that your lies inflicted upon my daughter. Do you know what that is like? To feel utterly helpless in the face of such suffering? I did all I could, of course. But nothing was ever enough. Y/N was too kind to ever say so, but I knew," she paused, the prison lights illuminating her unshed tears. "Oh stars did I know. Her eyes conveyed what she was too sweet to say. Each day brought with it more pain, it robbed her of her sleep and for near on half a year she would not leave her chambers."

"Your Majesty-" it was Hela who spoke this time.

"No," the Queen snapped, taking each of them by surprise. "Your time for talking has ended. It is time you felt as she did, as he did." Lifting her hand, she directed a small stream of seidr towards Hela.

Hela's scream was deafening. Clutching her head, she fell to her knees, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. The pain was unlike any she had ever felt before. Distantly she could make out her father and brother pleading with the Queen.

_"Do you see now?"_ Frigga's voice whispered in her mind, the pain increasing with every word. _"Do you feel now? This is but a fraction of the pain you have helped to cause."_

Never had Asgard's kind and gentle Queen appeared so fearsome. So cold and unfeeling to the pain and suffering of another. No smile adorned her features, no cold sneer. As Hela's screams became whimpers, Frigga spoke again. "It is imperative that you remember, the three of you, that you all deserve what is coming and believe me when I say, today was not even the beginning." 

The pain did not stop with the Queen's departure. It remained there, crippling and agonising. No comforts given by her brother or father made any difference. For the first time in her life, Hela felt helpless, weak and vulnerable.

"It would seem that the apple does not fall far from the tree," Njal murmured, holding his daughter close.

"Indeed," Thor replied, "like mother, like daughter."

"And we have underestimated them both," Hela whimpered, curling into her father.

"I wander," Thor muttered, running an absent hand through his short beard. "Does the King know he married a madwoman?"

"Be careful with your words, my son," Njal warned him. "It would not do for the guards to hear you. The Queen is powerful, that we have always known."

"Then what are we to do?" Thor asked, moving to sit facing his father and sister. "We are disgraced now, or so it would seem. That traitorous boy!" He hissed. "We should have killed him when we had the chance and we would not be here now."

"Hush!" Njal snapped. "Had you managed to win her hand, she would not have had the chance to see him."

"This is all my fault now?" Thor growled, affronted.

"All of us are to blame," Njal replied. "We ought to have kept a closer eye on him. Those cuffs proved to be insufficient, all of our lessons meant nothing. It all meant nothing now that the Princess has him again. We should have done better to erase him from her mind."

Hela weakly shook her head. "It would have made no difference."

"How so?" Njal asked softly. "What makes you say that, dearest?"

"His memory was not strongest in her mind," Hela replied, wincing in pain. "But in her heart and her heart is his."

Thor's lips curled at his sister's words. Despising them as he did, he knew them to be true. "Do you believe there is to be a trial, father?"

Njal shrugged. "I do not know, my boy. The Allfather is stubborn and not easily convinced. It will surely take more than the Queen to convince him and he is not likely to listen to Her Highness."

Nodding, a figure separated itself from the shadows by the cell and passed by unseen. It was only when the figure emerged from the dungeons that the guards bowed in respect to their King.


	27. The end's beginning

When her mother had taught her that spell, no room in the Palace had been safe.

Even now, years later, it brought such joy to her. With her hair loose and unstyled, Y/N flittered about in her rooms. Fresh cut flowers adorned nearly every surface, flowers of every colour and sort decorated her suite. The light fabric of her gown swayed softly as she moved. Her feet had remained bare.

Without thinking and smiling softly, she began to hum. A tune that soon developed into soft words.

_"Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly_   
_Lavender's green_   
_When I am King, dilly, dilly_   
_You shall be Queen..."_

Her steps became lighter and with small gestures of her hands, more fresh flowers appearing in her hands. In steps that suited a dance, she placed them in an elegant vase and settled them on her vanity.

_"Who told you so, dilly, dilly  
Who told you so  
'Twas mine own heart, dilly, dilly  
That told me so..."_

Reaching out, she selected her comb and began to pull it gently, but firmly through the strands, the movements calming. Satisfied, Y/N held out her right hand and summoned a number of pale pink daisies into her palm. Patiently, she began to thread them together to form a chain.

_"Call up your men, dilly, dilly  
Set them to work  
Some to the plough, dilly, dilly  
Some to the fork  
_

_Some to make hay, dilly, dilly  
Some to cut corn  
While you and I, dilly, dilly  
Keep ourselves warm..."_

Taking the completed daisy chain, Y/N proceeded to braid her hair, allowing the flowers to be twined between the strands.

_"Lavender's green, dilly, dilly  
Lavender's blue  
If you love me, dilly, dilly  
Then I will love you..." _

As she sang she moved, stepping closer to the bed and sitting by him. Bringing to life a small, red rose, she laid it atop his hands, her own covering them. Extending her free hand, she gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to trace the prominent arch of the cheekbone. Her next words were softer than before, as though meant only for him.

_"Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly_   
_And the lambs play_   
_We shall be safe, dilly, dilly_   
_Out of harm's way..."_

Humming under her breath, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Reluctantly rising, Y/N stepped away from the bed and summoned a beautiful bouquet of blush roses, delicate white thistle and lace-like fern. Smiling at the sight, she decided that it would look best in her receiving rooms. Upon returning to her bedchambers, she paused before the large, oval mirror. Shaking her head, she stepped away and continued to sing.

_"I love to dance, dilly, dilly  
I love to sing  
When I am Queen, dilly, dilly  
You'll be my King..." _

Spinning lightly, she faced the bed and allowed tenderness to seep into her voice as she beheld him. Oh, if only he would wake. Had her healing enchantment worked? She knew that she was not all that well versed in the healing arts.

Swallowing hard, she turned back to the mirror and stood before it.

_"Who told me so, dilly, dilly  
Who told me so?  
I told myself, dilly, dilly  
I told me so."  
_

As her words faded into a soft silence, Y/N stared at her reflected image. Her hand trembled as she reached out, touching the cool surface of the mirror. "Not the son he wanted," she whispered, feeling the tears well up again. When they spilled down her cheeks, she let them.

The silence stretched out, all around her. Moving away from the mirror, she padded to the balcony, but not stepping out. Sighing, she rested her head against the door's frame, her hands twirling a branch of cherry blossoms. Their delicate petals brushed gently against her hands.

_"If you love me, dilly, dilly  
Then I will love you..." _

Those few words, softly spoken, startled the Princess. Turning 'round, she gasped, dropping the flowers. She barely noticed them as they landed at her feet. All she saw, was him. He was looking back at her with those beautiful emerald eyes.

"Awake," she whispered, stumbling forward. "Awake." Upon reaching the bed, she fell to her knees, her face pressed into the sheets. Relief had weakened her and brought on only more tears, but now happy ones.

Without so much as a word, Loki reached down and let his left hand rest atop her head. A smiled curved his lips at the sight of the flowers she had threaded through the braid. It had been an age since he had last seen her do that. He remembered well that floral spell the Queen taught her.

Looking up at his touch, Y/N met his gaze. "Loki?" She whimpered, hope in every syllable.

"Indeed," he replied, smiling down at her. As he did so, his hand moved to cup her cheek.

At the sound of his voice, she rose to her feet. Taking the hand by her face, she held it tight and held it close. Moving to sit at the bed's edge, she attempted her own smile before giving up entirely. "Is this real?" She asked, "please tell me this is real, for if it were a dream, then my reality is Hel."

"It is as real as you and I," he replied.

With a gasp, she let go of his hand, only to throw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "Tell me you are here," she mumbled. "Tell me that you are here with me."

"I am here with you," Loki whispered into her hair, the flowers soft fragrance greeting him.

Sniffling, she nuzzled further in.

"You are wearing it, I see," he murmured, lifting the end of her braid where she had secured it with a dark green ribbon.

Lifting her head, she looked to where his attention was. "It would seem I am," she replied, her eyes travelling up along his hand and arm, the lingering scars making her shudder.

"You had misplaced your golden one," Loki continued, smiling in memory. "You were so frantic, looking for it everywhere, refusing to leave the book for fear of losing your place."

"Then you interrupted my panicked search by giving me this one," Y/N said softly, her gaze drinking in his features. "I only realised too late that it was that which had secured your hair." Reaching up, she carefully threaded her fingers through the short strands and carded through gently, allowing a little of her seidr to flow through. "Has your seidr returned to you?"

At her words, he sighed. "I feel something," he replied, eyes locked on where his hand fiddled with the end of her braid. "A strange pain almost, as though blood is returning to a repressed vein."

"Two years," Y/N whispered, horrified. "For two years it was restrained."

"It _will_ return," Loki replied softly, drawing her into an embrace. "In time."

"You remembered the song," she said, her voice soft as she nuzzled closer to him, her arms circling him as best she could. "Even after so long."

"How could I possibly forget it?" He asked, brushing his lips over her hairline. "You would sing it to me whenever I felt drowsy, especially when we were in the library."

Y/N smiled at the memory and angled her head to look up at him.

"Why do you weep, my darling?" Loki asked in a voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were filled with concern and tenderness as he looked to her. With infinite gentleness, he swiped her tears away.

"I never thought I would see you again," she admitted softly, her voice trembling as surely as her hands did. "I never thought I would ever hear you say my name ever again."

"Y/N," he said in reply, taking one of her hands in his and softly kissing first the knuckles and then the palm. "My beautiful, precious Y/N."

The Princess felt her lips begin to quiver and inhaled shakily. Bracing her free hand on his chest, she leaned forward and ardently kissed him. Her tears mixed with the kiss, but neither cared.

"Your sentiments are mine too," Loki said, tucking her close where she now lay curled beside him. As their fingers twined together, the early afternoon sun caught on the emerald ring she wore. "You carry it," he whispered as though in awe.

"Of course I do," she replied. "It was proof. The proof I need to convince my head of what was right before me."

"Is that the sole reason?"

Y/N shook her head. "Of course not. I wear it because _you_ gave it to me, despite the very fact that it belongs rightly with you, in fact-" she cut herself off as she made to pull the ring from her finger when Loki stopped her.

"No," he said, laying a hand atop hers. "It is yours now."

"It the last piece you have of your family," she protested. "I cannot possibly keep it!"

 _"Please,"_ he implored, stilling her hands further.

The entreaty in his eyes broke down her resolve and so she relented, nodding. "Very well."

~ ~ ~

The presence of the guards was to be expected. The unexpected however, happened when six approached their cell.

The guards were silent, saying not a word even as they entered the cell.

"What is happening?" Thor demanded as shackles were fixed to his wrists and ankles with a chain feeding through. His father and sister were being fitted the same, and all three wore a collar that completed the ensemble.

"Where are you taking us?" Hela asked, barely able to stand, her pained gaze pleading with the guards assigned to her.

Still they remained silent. Save for one. "Move," was all that was said.

The chatter of the inmates was silenced as the family was marched past. All watched them as the guards herded them from the dungeons.

It looked to be early afternoon when they passed through the Palace's winding corridors. Still the family had received no explanation for what was happening, no matter how many times they asked.

The sound of soft laughter caught Njal's attention, bringing him to a halt. Looking in the direction of the sound, he felt his blood begin to boil within him and a long buried jealousy started to rise. He did not notice how the guards did not urge him to move. His gaze was fixed on _them._

"Father, is that-?" Thor asked from beside him.

Njal nodded stiffly, his jaw clenched tight. "Indeed," he bit out.

There, in the garden just a short distance from them, was a couple sitting beneath a tree. The day's heat did not seem to bother them there. The Princess was reading from a book, one hand holding it open while the other stroked through Loki's hair, for his head rested in her lap, his eyes closed. Her touch bore such a loving tenderness that it could be seen by their silent observers.

The family watched with some confusion, for was his hair not longer? It was no longer the short cropped cut they had demanded of him.

A smile blossomed on Y/N's lips and she giggled at a passage in the story. In her lap, Loki stirred and turned his eyes to her. "Did I wake you?" She asked, an apology on her lips.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I do so adore it when you smile, and laugh."

Unable to think of anything to say, Y/N bent at the waist and pressed her lips to his and kissed him sweetly. "Your smile is much more beautiful, my love," she murmured, tracing her knuckles along his cheek.

"It is no contest, angel," Loki said, taking her hand and holding it in place. "Will you read to me?"

A warm, beautiful love blossomed in her heart. Nodding, she retrieved the book she had lain to the side. "Of course I will," she replied. He did not let go of her hand as he settled himself once more, this time facing her.

Hela felt the bile rise in her throat at the scene. If it weren't for the perpetual agony raging through her body, she might have sneered and spat more than one poisonous word.

"Outrageous," Thor hissed beside her. His eyes had narrowed at the couple who were as yet blissfully unaware of their audience. "How dare-"

"Silence!" One of his guards snapped, cutting him off. "Her Highness and His Lordship are not to be disturbed, least of all by the likes of you. Now move along."

Y/N however, had heard Thor's remark and looked up. Her e/c eyes met his directly and she smiled, raising a finger to her lips and looking to her lap where Loki had drifted off to sleep.

Njal bit back a snarl at the Princess's display. The guard's address of Loki rankled him, more so than his blatant disrespect of Thor.

The Princess kept her eyes on the family until they had disappeared from sight. Her voice had continued to relay the story, soft and calming.

The servants and guards the family passed by did not look at them. They averted their gazes to elsewhere, even the guards that stood by the throne room doors. That was when the situation began to clear itself.

Or so they thought.

The cavernous throne room was empty, save for the presence of the King and Queen, whose thrones sat at the far end, upon a dais. The Princess's throne stood empty, a gaping hole in the family image.

The guards marched them up the dais, stopping a few feet short. Njal was sure he saw a faint smile on Queen Frigga's lips.

"Njal Erikson," Odin's voice called out, echoing in the vast room. "You have been brought here today with your children. Know you why?"

The silence was deafening. It began to weigh heavily when at last, he found it within himself to speak. "A misunderstanding, Your Majesties," he replied.

"A misunderstanding?" It was Frigga who spoke. "Is that what you call it when you blatantly lie to the Crown? The Crown you have sworn to serve?"

"Majesties, if I may-" Thor began to speak.

"You were not asked to speak," Odin snapped. "The question was for your father, not you."

Chastised, Thor swallowed hard and looked to his father for help. Never had the King spoken to them in such a manner. This would not end well for them.

"Yes, Majesties," Njal continued. "I must apologise on behalf of my children, we never intended to bring anyone to any harm."

Neither monarch answered him. Both looked at him, pinning him to the spot.

"Then, what _was_ your intent?" Odin asked, folding his hands before him. "Do tell us, my wife and I are most intrigued."

No words came to the former General now. The fabricated tale fell to ruin in his mind before he had even spoken the words. It was truly no use, the King had made up his mind.

"As I thought," Odin murmured, sharing a glance with his wife. "Guards, return them to the dungeons, for tomorrow is to be their trial."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used were from the lullaby 'Lavender's Blue'


	28. The trial

_"The three of you will come with me back to the Palace where you will stand trial."_

She had been right after all, that insufferable arrogant wench. Hela sneered at the memory. The Allfather was said to be as stubborn as his daughter, if not more so. What in the Nine had occurred for him to turn against them? What had-

"A trial?!" Thor's enraged demand broke off her thoughts. "Is this really about to happen?"

Njal sighed and nodded. It was a mere few hours until the new day dawned. A messenger had been sent to tell them that it would all happen in the afternoon. The chains and shackles had remained.

Hela, unable to carry the weight, had long since sunk to the floor of the cell. The Queen's enchantment ensured not a moment of peace, the pain robbed her even of her sleep. The lights of the dungeons only sought to worsen the growing pain in her head. Seeking any relief she could, Hela closed her eyes and leaned against the cell's cool wall.

"Surely it is a jest?" Thor continued, his tone bordering on desperate as he spoke with his father.

Njal shook his head. "This is no jest, Thor. You heard the Allfather the same as I. Look to your sister," he said, pausing to look to Hela. There was a deep pain in his eyes, the Queen's words taunting him. Never had he felt so helpless. "If that is what the Queen will do for her daughter, just imagine what the King will do."

"Never has he spurned us so," Thor muttered, sinking to the floor. The manacles made finding a comfortable position near impossible. "Will he let us live?"

Njal looked to his son, never had he seen him look so afraid. So small. "I do not know. By the Nine, I wish I did."

"Why did you have to remarry?" Thor asked suddenly, drawing a look of surprise from his father and sister.

"I did it for you," Njal replied. "For you both. I wished for you to have a mother again."

"Were you acquainted with her before the wedding?" Hela asked softly, unable to speak any louder.

Njal nodded. "Indeed I was. She intrigued me, raising a child on her own on an estate as large as hers. Even then, every time we spoke, she would speak of him. Her son. Her reason for living after his father had passed away. He was everything to her and though I knew he had flaws, the way she spoke of him made it to be as though he did not."

"Had you met him before we came to the estate?" Thor asked.

Their father shook his head. "No. When the both of you met him for the first time, it was the first time for me too." Shaking his head, he sighed. "I had seen her smile and laugh. I had seen her happy. But the moment she saw him, her eyes lit up. Her smile seemed brighter when he was there. It was then that I learned, that no matter what I did, I could never make her as happy as her son did. He was, after all, a reminder of his father."

Thor sneered and moved to sit beside Hela. "I do not believe I will ever forget the day I first saw him."

"Me neither," Hela whispered and attempted to sit a little straighter against the wall. "A head taller than his mother with the same gleaming black hair. I had never seen eyes like his before, not even his mother had eyes like that. I felt as though he could see right through me. Piercing, sharp and only the smallest hint to an even sharper mind."

Thor hummed in agreement and nodded in time with her words. "He put us all to shame on that first day alone."

"There was not a hint of malice in his bearing or speech," Njal murmured, the memory playing before his eyes.

A silence settled over the family. Njal and Thor began to doze off as the time passed. Hela wished for sleep, but even there, the pain would follow her. It haunted her every moment. She envied the rest that came so easily to her family.

The chains and shackles she still wore only made it worse. They prevented any form of comfort from being found.

Hela's attempts to sleep were interrupted rather abruptly by the appearance of six guards in the cell. The barriers were down. With a rough shake, The guards woke Njal and Thor and hauled them to their feet. They were no less rough with Hela. They knew well the charges that lay against them.

Stumbling between their guards, the family were led from the bowels of the Palace and into the corridors beyond. The restraints were heavier than either had imagined.

If they had expected the throne room to be empty as it was the day before, then they were to be sorely disappointed. It looked as though the whole of Asgard had gathered into the vast room. A pathway through the crowd was carved for them the moment the looming doors swung open. A hush fell over the room as the prisoners were led in. Not a word was said as they were directed to stand before the thrones.

Once again, the Princess was not there. Her throne stood empty.

"Njal Erikson," Odin called, his voice echoing clearly. "You stand before the people of Asgard and before your King and Queen, alongside your children. You stand charged of lying most heinously to myself, Her Majesty and Her Highness, Princess Y/N. How do you plead?"

Lifting his chin, Njal dared to look up at the King. "All that I did and said, it was all in the best interest of my family."

"Do you plead guilty, or not?" The Queen asked, leveling him with a rather icy look.

There was a beat of silence before the answer came. "Not guilty, Your Majesties."

The room was in an uproar. The noise of protest was deafening. A cacophony that was only silenced by the Allfather's spear making contact with the ground. The crowd fell silent and looked to their King. 

"What reason have you for pleading as such?" Odin asked, looking each of the family in the eye in turn. "For though a parent may do many things for the love of a child, I do not believe that rampant abuse is one such thing."

Njal said nothing. Thor and Hela did not dare speak.

"General Njal Erikson," Frigga spoke up. "You are henceforth stripped of your title and rank. Your wealth and estates will be returned to their rightful owner. Lady Hela and Lord Thor, you will be treated as your father has been. Your titles are no longer yours, nor any of the privileges that accompany them. The three of you will be taken to the wastes of Jotuneheim, unless of course, by some miraculous event, there is someone who will speak up for you?"

No one stepped forward. No one raised their hands. No one intervened and Hela looked to her brother, fear was clear in her eyes. Jotunheim was a cold, cruel place. It was a place devoid of warmth and the sun rarely visited. The realm's inhabitants were no less frightening and the inspiration of night terrors.

It felt as though ages passed them by and as though their fates were truly sealed when the faint sound of the doors opening could be heard. Behind them, the family heard the crowd part.

"Their Royal Highnesses!" A guard announced, loud and clear.

The announcement confused the family, who looked to each other for clarification. Looking to the King and Queen, they saw the beginnings of a smile on both their faces. Slow measured steps had them turn around to face the newcomers.

The crowd was bowing before a couple as they passed them by. There she was, Princess Y/N. Arrayed in a [gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/703476404266374089/) of light blue and silver, it was easily the most ornate gown she had yet to wear. Silver adorned her hair and glinted like tiny blades amongst the h/c strands. Her gown brushed the ground, a train of fabric following behind. Her chin was raised and a fire burned in her eyes as she beheld them.

There he was. Right beside her. One of her hands rested atop his lightly raised one. Dressed in his colours of green, gold and black, he stood before them. The curved horns of his helm only added to his towering figure. A sumptuous cloak of emerald green snapped at his heels, his shined boots clicking against the marble.

The couple stopped a few feet away. A smile curved Y/N's lips as she regarded the group before her. "Njal," she said, "Hela, Thor. I do believe that I have yet to introduce you to my husband." Their shocked gaping expressions made her chuckle. A sound that soon faded as her eyes hardened. "Would you stand to receive your future King?"

She watched with satisfaction as the guards forced them to their knees.

"Now," she continued. "I do believe we have interrupted your trial. Majesties," she said, looking to her parents, "I apologise for the interruption, please do contin-"

A strangled gasp from her left cut her words short. With alarm, she looked to Loki. Loki who had stumbled back, wincing lightly and gasping for breath, his eyes wide. Crossing to him, she gently cupped his face with both hands. "Darling?" She whispered, eyes and voice filled with concern. "Is everything alright? Are you hurt?"

Shaking his head while still regaining his breath, Loki met her gaze, and smiled in a manner she had not seen for far too long. "It has returned," he gasped, taking her hands and clutching them in his own. "It has returned."

Y/N inhaled sharply. The crowd fell away at his words. The glint in his eyes and the wide, joyful smile could mean but one thing. "Truly?" She whispered, eyes hopeful.

Loki nodded and swooped down for a kiss, holding her close. Filled with pride and joy, she returned the gesture, uncaring of those that watched them. Upon parting, she smiled as widely as he. Now, she held his hand as though for dear life as they faced her parents once more. "Please, do continue," Y/N finished her sentence.

With a raised eyebrow and a small nod, Odin spoke. "If there are none to speak for you, then your fates are sealed."

"I will speak for them," Loki said suddenly, surprising all.

Unwinding her hand from his, Y/N stepped back, sending him a small smile in encouragement.

As Loki steadily stepped closer to them, they were forced to crane their necks to look up at him. "Your Highness," Njal greeted him, forcing the words from behind clenched teeth, Thor and Hela following suit.

"My mother taught me many things," he began, voice strong and sure. "The lesson she urged me to remember the most was this one, to forgive those who have wronged you but not to forget their crimes. One must never forget. I am learning now, that it will indeed be easier for me to forget you, than to forgive you."

"Prince Loki of Asgard," Odin said, "as the grievances lie most heavily with you, I place the nature of their sentence now upon you to decide."

There was a short silence before Loki spoke again. "Allfather. Allmother. Your Highness. People of Asgard, I am humbled by this act of faith by you all. To decide the sentence of a criminal is no light matter. One must not allow thoughts of revenge, vengeance or bias to cloud their judgement. A decision such as this must be made with a clear mind." Taking a deep breath, he looked down to where Njal, Hela and Thor knelt. "Therefore, I simply ask Your Majesties to bestow upon them the same kindness that they have shown me these two years passed. That the same mercies be shown. The same considerations taken."

Behind him, Y/N beamed with pride. She knew well what he was asking.

"I simply ask that their actions be repaid with all the generosity they are worth," Loki continued, bowing.

"A fitting sentence," Frigga spoke up, standing from her throne. "Think you not, husband?"

Odin nodded. "Indeed. Therefore, Njal," he looked to the former General. "You will be silenced for all eternity and sent to work in the crystal mines in the Northern Mountains until the end of your days. Thor," he addressed the former Lord. "As your father, you too will be eternally silenced. You will henceforth be sent to the salt mines by the Southern Oceans, where you shall remain until you last draw breath. Hela," he turned to the former Lady. "Like your father and brother, you will be silenced. You will remain here, in the Palace. You will serve as you have forced others to serve. You will never see your family again."

No sooner had the King finished speaking then Njal, along with his children, all but threw themselves at Loki's feet. "Brother," Thor spoke first, drawing gasps from the crowd. "I beg you, do not let them do this. Convince them otherwise."

"Brother," Loki repeated the word softly to himself as he regarded Thor and the desperate brush of fingers against his boots and cloak.

"Little brother," Hela spoke next, her voice weak and near a whimper. "Please. Please do not allow this. I beg you as Thor has done. Have mercy."

"Little brother," Loki echoed her words as he looked to her, pathetic and grasping for him.

"My son," Loki's gaze snapped to Njal as he spoke. "My boy, please. Listen to reason. You have always been just and fair in your treatment of others."

"My son," Loki murmured and shook his head. "Now you all address me as one who would belong to your family. A brother and a son. You would beg mercy from me, mercy that you have not shown even once to me. You would call me family and expect what of me? Complete forgiveness? Clemency? No," he chuckled darkly. "Oh no. Your true faces were revealed to me a long time ago. Your masks of civility fell the day my dear mother was entombed. You are correct," he said, looking to Njal. "I am just and fair. But make no mistake in believing that I will let all of this go. I am kind to those who deserve it, who work hard and make our realm a better place."

Stepping back, he held out a hand. A hand Y/N readily took.

"I am not your son," Loki continued, "and I am not your brother. You are not my family. Even though I have long wished to belong to one. My mother married you to give me a father, to allow me to feel as though I had siblings of my own. That dream of mine was shattered long ago. Where I am certain I will soon forget you and put you from my mind, I know that I shall be in your thoughts for the rest of your days."

Y/N felt a fierce pride blossom within her and twined her fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. She said not a word.

"Is Your Highness in agreeance with the sentence to be carried out?" The King asked, addressing Loki.

Loki nodded and bowed. "I am, Your Majesty."

Giving his hand a gentle tug, Y/N led him up to the dais, to stand beside the Queen.

"So let the sentences be carried out!" Odin announced, his spear clanging on the ground to emphasise his words. Words that brought a thunderous applause from the gathered people. In the midst of it all, Njal and his children were lead away.

"How are they to be silenced?" Loki asked.

Beside him, Frigga smiled and shared a look with her daughter. "Their lips are to be sewn shut with a thread that cannot be broken."


	29. A Royal Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all deserve this...

_~ That morning ~_

_"Does he really have to go?" Y/N asked, pouting like a child._

_Frigga nodded. "You know he does. It is tradition and one of the rules."_

_The Princess sighed and looked over to where Loki stood out on the balcony. "May I go with him at least? I shall come straight back. I promise."_

_Frigga regarded her daughter for a moment before inclining her head. "You will be seeing him again very soon. In a mere few hours."_

_"Is that a yes?" Y/N wheedled, mouth forming into a grin, her eyebrows waggling._

_Laughing softly, Frigga nodded. "'Tis a yes, my dear." Y/N's mouth had opened to let loose a squeal of delight before Frigga promptly continued to speak. "But you must not linger. There is much to be done before the ceremony. The gown is being brought from the tailors as speak."_

_The Queen had sent to the tailors for a wedding gown for her only daughter. It was to be fashioned from the finest fabrics, bearing the colours of white and gold._

_"I cannot promise, mother," Y/N replied, darting to kiss her mother on the cheek. "But I will endeavor to try."_

_Before Frigga could say a word more, Y/N had taken Loki's hand and all but tugged him from the room. Immediately, Frigga turned and spoke to a maid passing by. "Fetch Celeste, would you my dear? She is needed in the main courtyard to accompany the Princess and his Lordship."_

_Bobbing a curtsy, the maid murmured her assent and dashed off to complete the task given her._

_Celeste however, was otherwise occupied at the far side of the Palace. Having completed her morning duties with Y/N, she had excused herself. Twirling the singular white lily that she had found at her doorstep, she made her way to the armoury. A soft smile curved her lips, even as her heart fluttered nervously within her. She knew what she was going to say, she only prayed for the courage to see it through._

_The Princess's words from that night had remained with her. A request born from the shards of a broken heart and Celeste did not dare to speak of her shyness._

_The entire Palace was alive with the preparations required for a royal wedding. There had not been one in centuries._ _Deftly weaving her way through the throngs of serving staff, Celeste slipped away to one of the more peaceful parts of the Palace._

_The armoury was not thought to be a place of calm and relaxation, but for Celeste it appeared just so. Shaded and cool, it had become an oasis for her, a place of tranquility and peace. It had been where she had met him. The official weapons master for the Allfather._

_Pausing before the great doors, Celeste paused, her hand hovering over the smooth wood. Her breath stuttered in her lungs as she took a deep fortifying breath. "You can do this," she muttered, clutching the lily tight in her other hand. There was but one other person who knew of her fondness for the flower and she was certain that Y/N was not the one. That left but one other._

_Flattening her palm against the door, she pushed and felt it swing soundlessly open, allowing her entrance._

_As it always was, the vast room beyond was silent. A shuffling from the back made her smile. Alternating her grip on the lily from hand to the other, Celeste stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her._

_Her slippers made barely a sound as she moved, her breaths coming faster and shallower. Sweat was beginning to gather in her palms, causing her to almost drop the flower she held. Taking a breath, she called his name, "Cathán?"_

_When silence answered her, Celeste fought the rise of disappointment. She had so hoped she would find him there on this day. This day when she had at long last summoned what courage she had. Swallowing thickly, she cast her gaze around. Rows of freshly sharpened swords and battle axes met her wandering gaze. The gleaming tips of lances caught her attention next, then it was the-_

_"You called?" Came a voice from behind her._

_Shrieking in fright, Celeste jumped a foot in the air before turning to face him, a hand pressed to her racing heart. "You-" she gasped out, staring at him._

_"Me," he replied, grinning wolfishly and winking with his good eye. "And what brings you here today?" He asked, stepping slowly closer. "Surely Her Highness is in need of you on a day such as this?"_

_Celeste swallowed and nodded, before changing her mind and shaking her head. "Yes, I-uh-I mean no, that is, yes she does, but not at present."_

_Cathán smiled softly. "I see you found it then?" He asked, gaze training on the lily she held._

_Celeste nodded and smiled shyly. "I did," she replied. "I thank you. There are not many who remember my favourite bloom."_

_"Is that why you came?" He asked, taking a step closer. "To offer thanks?"_

_She shook her head. "Not purely, no," she admitted softly. "There is something I have been meaning to say to you."_

_"And what might that be?" Cathán asked, standing so close as to feel her breath. "My star?"_

_Celeste was sure he could hear her heart thundering within her. Licking her lips, she looked down to gather herself, only to feel a gentle touch lift her chin._

_"Why do you look away?" He asked softly, allowing his hand to cup her jaw._

_"Are we friends?" She blurted out, immediately regretting the words after._

_Cathán laughed softly and nodded. "I should hope so," he said._

_"What if we were, you know," here she paused and met his eye, biting her lip anxiously._

_"Were what?" He asked gently, smoothing his thumb across her cheek._

_It was an eternity before she answered. Her voice was small and fragile, "more?"_

_"More?" He echoed._

_"Yes, you know, like-"_

_"Celeste! There you are!" The door to the armoury was thrown open and one of Celeste's fellow maids stood there, panting. "I have been looking everywhere for you, you are needed in the main courtyard."_

_Pulling away from Cathán, Celeste ground her teeth. Red tinged her vision. "I will see you later," she murmured in his direction before making to join the maid by the door. She dared not look at him, despite her every wish to do so._

_Before she had so much as taken two steps, she felt a hand circle her wrist and spin her around. She barely had time to register what was happening before she felt a pair of lips meet her own. A gasp left her lips and her eyes flew open._

_He was kissing her. Once the shock had melted away, she sank into the kiss, her arms coming to wrap around his neck as his circled her._

_When at last they broke apart, Cathán touched his forehead to hers. "I know," he whispered, his breath fanning gently over her lips._

_Celeste's answering smile was brighter than the summer sun. But before she could reply, the maid by the door huffed impatiently and pulled her away from him. "There will be time for that later," she muttered, "the Princess needs you."_

_Celeste nodded faintly, her eyes not leaving Cathán's, even as she walked backwards to the door._

_"Do come on," the other maid huffed, pulling with greater strength, effectively tugging the dazed Celeste out into the corridor. "They are making ready to leave!"_

_This seemed to do the trick. Shaking her head, Celeste looked to her companion. "Who is leaving?"_

_"The Princess and his Lordship," the maid explained with wide eyes. "He is to go his estate before the wedding."_

_Cursing under her breath, Celeste hiked up her skirts and ran._

_The hallways and corridors rushed past her as she raced to make her way to the Palace's main courtyard. Weaving through crowds of servants, Celeste prayed she would not be too late._

_It appeared as though luck was on her side that morning. The moment she broke free of the Palace, she saw the carriage and Y/N disappear into it, Loki close behind. Sprinting down the steps, she all but leapt up beside a very surprised driver._

_"Questions later," she gasped out as she fought to regain her breath._

_Muttering to himself, the driver nodded and jostled the reins, urging the horses to go._

_The carriage's occupants took no note of the lurch of the carriage as it began to trundle away. For the moment the carriage doors had closed behind them, Y/N had crossed from her side to his, sinking into his embrace with a soft, contented sigh._

_Neither said a word. The enormity of the day's pending events was enough to silence them. Outside the carriage walls, the entire realm appeared to be celebrating already and it made her smile. They were good people, Asgard's citizens. Tilting her head just so, she caught his smile. It was a soft one, but still very much there._

_It was not until the very distinct shape of the manor rose in the distance, that Y/N looked out the window. "Almost there," she murmured._

_When they came to a halt before the manor steps, Celeste leapt down and opened the doors for them both. Behind her, the household's staff had gathered, having received the message sent by the Queen's herald._

_It was Loki who stepped out first, offering his hand to Y/N, who alighted beside him._

_"Your Highness," the servants chorused, bowing and curtsying._

_With her hand held in his, Y/N stepped toward them. "Arise," she said, smiling at each of them. "Today is a day of great rejoicing, the sadness and suffering is passed, now is the time for laughter, dancing and singing."_

_Viola stepped forward. "The rumours are true then, Your Highness?"_

_The Princess nodded. "Indeed they are. Your Lord and I are to be wed this day. And all of you," she said, looking over the small crowd, "are invited to attend. It would honour us both."_

_"The honour is ours, Princess," Viola replied, a hand to her heart._

_"Now, for the most difficult part of all," Y/N muttered. "I shall leave him in your care," she said to Viola. "For I trust you will deliver him back to me before the ceremony."_

_"Of course, Highness."_

_Nodding, Y/N bit her lip and turned to Loki. "I miss you already."_

_The young Lord chuckled and drew her close. "I miss you too."_

_Rising to her tiptoes, she moulded her lips to his and tangled her fingers into the short hairs at his nape. In response, his arms curled around her waist and pulled her impossibly closer. While some of the servants looked away to afford them a measure of privacy, Viola and Celeste were not among their number._

_Breaking apart, the Princess held the Lord's gaze, her smile trembling. "In a few short hours," she whispered against his lips._

_"Indeed," he replied, brushing his lips against hers in a feather light kiss._

_"Mistress?" Celeste called softly. "We really must be going, there is still much to be done."_

_Y/N, it seemed, had not heard her. Nor had Loki for that matter._

_"Young master?" Viola tried her luck, "come along now. You will see each other again soon."_

_When neither responded favorably, the cook and the maid shared a look and nodded._

_The next thing Y/N and Loki knew, they had been forcibly separated and held secure. "Celeste?" Y/N hissed. "Let me go."_

_"No can do, Highness," the maid quipped. "We really must be going."_

_"Viola please," Loki was saying. "Just one more kiss, I promise."_

_"See, Celeste?" Y/N said, looking to her maid. "Just one more, promise."_

_"It is never simply one more with you two," Celeste muttered, but lightly loosened her grip._

_Taking her chance, Y/N freed herself and crossed the short distance to him where he took her in his arms. Lifting her a fraction off the ground, he spun her in a slow circle, her head buried in his shoulder._

_"Promise me you will come?" She whispered, the words loud enough only for him to hear._

_"I will be there," he replied, his lips brushing along her ear. "I swear to you." Setting her down, he took her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her lips. "Nothing will keep me from binding myself to you."_

_Swallowing hard, Y/N nodded. Already she could feel Celeste tugging on her sleeve. "Nor I," she said._

_"Come now, mistress," Celeste said, already beginning to pull Y/N toward the doors. "You promised."_

_Reluctantly, she pulled away, keeping her gaze locked with his. "One hour before noon," she said to him, offering a crooked smile._

_"Until then, my love," Loki replied and remained where he stood until her carriage disappeared from sight._

_"Come along," Viola said, breaking into his thoughts. "There is something you ought to see."_

_With one last glance over his shoulder as he followed her, Loki nodded. His confusion came to light as they entered his mother's rooms. There, beside the bed, stood a mannequin. Upon it sat a set of the most elegant ceremonial armour he had ever seen. Gold plates ran in union with black leather to protect the chest. Rich emerald green cascaded down the back in a sumptuous cloak. "What is this?" He asked, looking to the cook._

_Viola smiled, though there was a hint of melancholy to it. "It was your father's. I made a few small changes, but-"_

_"My father's?" Loki repeated softly. He turned his attention back to the armour and approached it and reached out with a trembling hand. "My father's."_

_"Yes. He wore it when he married your mother."_

_"My father's," Loki murmured, tracing the gold bracers and high collar. It was truly a work of art._

_"This however," Viola said, stepping up beside him, "was the crowning piece." With those words, she presented to him a helmet. Golden it was, with two strong horns curving up over the head, adding height to whomever wore it._

_Taking the helmet, Loki held it and delicately traced the shape of the horns, pressing the pad of his finger lightly to the tip._

_"Will you wear it?" Viola asked softly. "The helmet and the armour?"_

_"Yes," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes I will."_

_~ ~ ~_

_It took an army of maids to help in the Princess's preparation. Her[gown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/481463016420347479/), a stunning work of white and gold, was displayed on a mannequin not too far away. It was by far the most elegant gown Y/N had ever seen. It was fit for a Queen. _

_After a lengthy soak in the bath, the Princess now sat before her vanity while maids fluttered about with her hair, while Celeste busied herself with painting her face rather tastefully. Gold sparkled by her eyes and a delicate rose painted her lips._

_"It is quite the crowd out there," one of the maids commented idly as she pinned a braid into place._

_"I know," Y/N hummed happily. "One can hear them from here on occasion."_

_A simple pair of golden diamonds were selected to be worn in her ears, their gentle sparkle made her smile. Their work completed, the maids stepped back._

_"Beautiful work," Y/N praised them and beamed at them through the mirror._

_With a murmured thanks, the maids stepped to the side as the Princess rose and approached her gown. "So beautiful," she murmured, eyes raking over every detail. Raising a hand, she made a small motion with it and in a manner of seconds, the gown was settled around her, draping across her form._

_Walking to the mirror, Y/N could not help but admire herself. Never in her life had she felt more beautiful. With light hands, she smoothed them down the fabric and over the golden embellishments at her shoulders and by her arms._

_Her observation however was interrupted by the cheer of the distant crowd. Y/N's eyes lit up and before anyone could so much as stop her, she made for the balcony._

_"Oh no, you don't," Celeste muttered, leaping after her. "Come away from there, mistress," she said, catching up to her._

_"But why?" Y/N asked, her eyes widening as realisation dawned. "He is here, isn't he?" She breathed. "He has returned." When her maid did not answer, she turned back to the balcony, only to have Celeste close the doors in her face. "Celeste!"_

_"No distractions," the maid replied, shooing her back to where the other maids waited. "You will see him in the temple soon. Now stand still," she said as she settled a stunning golden[tiara](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/717198309397307751/) atop her head. "There," she muttered, standing back. "There we go." _

_"Will I do?" Y/N asked, spinning in a slow circle._

_"Most definitely, Your Highness," one of the maids spoke up, the others murmuring in agreement._

_"There is but one thing more," Celeste said, stepping up with a[bouquet](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/247205467033152906/) of the whitest roses that had been intermingled with a rare golden fern. The fronds sparkled gently in the late morning sun. _

_Taking the flowers, Y/N took a deep breath and allowed it to shudder lightly as she exhaled. Celeste took this as her cue to excuse the maids. Though it was not long after that a short series of knocks sounded through the room._

_Her father stood on the other side. Stepping into the suite of rooms, all Odin saw was his daughter. His only child. She looked resplendent in white and gold. "My child," he said in greeting and smiled._

_Y/N smiled in return, and meant it. "Father," she greeted him. "Do I look as a royal bride ought to?"_

_Approaching her, the King held her hands in his while Celeste held the bouquet. "You look beautiful, my dear. I know I have not shown it as much as I ought to, but never forget that I do love you, so very much and no King, no father, could wish for a better daughter. The Fates blessed us when they sent you to us."_

_Y/N felt her eyes sting with tears at her father's words. Words she had never thought to hear. "I love you too," she managed to say._

_"Come now, no more tears, lest they be ones of joy."_

_Nodding, she smiled. "Celeste, my flowers if you please." Taking the bouquet in one hand, she took her father's arm with the other._

_Trailing behind the pair, Celeste kept a close watch on her mistress. All the courtiers awaited them at the temple, the servants bowed as they passed._

_The moment Y/N and her father stepped into the courtyard, those of the crowd that could see her went wild. Raising her hand in a wave, she smiled at them before taking her father's hand and settling into the carriage that had been decorated with apple blossoms and ferns. White silken ribbons fluttered in the soft breeze._

_The crowd parted for them as they passed through. The whole town had been decorated in the Aesir wedding custom._

_The temple stood a short way from the Palace, nestled in a copse of trees. The crowd it seemed, had stretched all the way there. Gripping her father's hand, Y/N stepped from the carriage and gasped softly, for the trees bore ribbons and intricate chains of crystals._

_"They love you," Odin murmured to her as Celeste settled her train._

_"And I love them," Y/N replied._

_"I know you do. Shall we?"_

_Nodding, Y/N took a deep breath and adjusted her grip on the bouquet._

_The guards by the looming stone doors pushed them open. A hush fell in the temple and the crowd that had gathered there. But she did not see them. She saw only him. All breath left her as she beheld him. Arrayed in green, gold and black with a gleaming helmet that only added to his height. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved down the centre aisle. Her legs trembled beneath her and her hands shook._

_Letting go of her father's arm, she reached out and took Loki's outstretched one. When their eyes met, she saw his had reddened slightly and unshed tears glistened there. "You look radiant," he whispered._

_Y/N could manage no words. Her smile trembled at the edges as she lightly squeezed his hand._

_Soon the voice of the holy man began to intone the vows, eliciting promises of fidelity and loyalty from them both. Taking their hands, the holy man bound them together with a fine silk rope, runes of the vows they had just spoken were woven into the fabric. "In the joining of your hands with this cord," the holy man said, looking at both of them. "Your hearts, your minds and your souls are bound also. So they shall remain until the end of time."_

_With those words, the cord began to dissolve, leaving only a faint imprint on both their hands._

_"You may kiss your bride."_

_Loki did not have to be told twice. With a gentle tug, he pulled her forward and pressed his lips to hers. Immediately, he felt her respond, curving her body to his, her mouth moving against his. The cheering and clapping of the crowd was what pulled them back to the present._

_"People of Asgard," the holy man called out, his voice reaching out even to the crowd beyond the temple. "I give you, their Royal Highnesses. Princess Y/N and Prince Loki, her husband."_

_"Husband," Y/N whispered, looking up at him. "My King and beloved one."_

_"Wife," Loki replied, meeting her gaze and tenderly swiping away the tears that had fallen. "My Queen and love."_

_"Shall we?" Y/N asked, looking to the crowds._

_Nodding, Loki offered her his arm and guided her from the temple, only to stop before the waiting carriage. Keeping a hold of her waist, he dipped her and kissed her so deeply that not even the thunderous cheers of the crowd pulled them away from each other._


	30. Conclusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not ready to say goodbye....so much so that I played with the idea of adding more chapters *deep sigh* oh well, here goes I suppose....

The whole realm was in celebration. From the capital all the way to the remotest settlement. Never had Asgard felt such peace as she did now, the altercation that had threatened her borders was now long passed, her King having proven himself in her defence.

It was now Spring, the season of rebirth and the celebration of life and the Queen wore in her hair blossoms of rose gold, a fine replica of those that clung to the branches of the apple trees. A [crown](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/452822937536071401/) of golden filigree rested atop her head and glimmered as she passed through patches of sunlight. The crystals on her [gown](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c6/47/4d/c6474d4ea54386e72dcc6d20fade12d7.jpg) tinkled softly as she moved, singing softly as they caught in the sun, sparkling as surely as her crown did.

The patter of approaching footsteps had her turn around just in time to avoid being run into by a small boy. A smile curved her lips at the sight and she extended her arms. Immediately, the boy threw himself into her embrace. Laughing, she lifted him from the ground and spun 'round with him. The boy's infectious giggles soon mixed with hers.

"Where is your mamma?" She asked once she had regained her breath, settling the boy on her jewelled hip. "I thought you would be spending the day with her?"

The little boy, Feichín by name, shrugged and laid his head on her shoulder.

The Queen smiled and kissed his forehead. "You mean, you ran away from her to explore?"

In answer, Feichín looked up at her and grinned, showing off the sizeable gap in his teeth. "Yep," he pronounced proudly.

"Up to a bit of mischief were we?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. When the boy nodded, she grinned. "Why, I do believe you would make your uncle quite proud."

Feichín beamed, the Queen's heart warming at the sight. "Where ith he?"

"You know what? I do not know," leaning in, she whispered, "shall we go and see if we can find him?"

The boy in her arms nodded eagerly and wriggled until she let him down where he promptly took her hand.

Together they searched the Palace, the servants and guards smiling at the sight of the Queen and the laughing little boy. All around them, the Palace was being prepared for the celebrations that would likely last a full week, two at the most.

Courtiers and visiting nobles stepped out of the way as their Queen swept past, some shook their heads in fond exasperation at her fondness for the little one. She was a worthy successor to her mother.

The Queen was surprised when their search lead them to the one place she least expected. The training grounds. New recruits as well as seasoned soldiers had crowded around one of the rings where one pair squared off against each other. From her vantage point, the Queen could see all. What she saw filled her with such pride and a warm, beautiful love blossomed within her.

There were not many that would dare to face their King in the practice ring. His prowess in battle was hard won and well respected by all the men and women in the armed forces.

Indeed, there were not many either that would even think to face the royal weaponsmaster. He had fought alongside the King and knew well his liege's strengths and weaknesses.

It was now these two that faced each other, engaged in a duel that commanded attention like no other. The King was all grace and elegance, his movements fluid and lethal in their precision and timing. A powerful predator and a fearsome opponent to anyone who would dare challenge him.

Cathán was no different in the undeniable power of his towering frame. There were few who could challenge his skills as the King did. Both were strong and quick in their movements, making the entire duel appear as a dance. A lethal, dangerous dance.

Beside her, the Queen saw Feichín bounce impatiently, not being tall enough to see over the stone railing. Chuckling, she bent at the hip and lifted the boy so he stood on the stone ledge.

As soon as his eyes locked onto the dueling figures, he began to clap. "Papa!" He called in delight and smiled widely when both men stopped and looked his way. Cathán grinned upon seeing the boy.

The King however, only saw his Queen. Radiant in rose gold, she appeared ethereal to him. He watched as she spoke with the child, who smiled and nodded before being lifted into her arms.

The crowd that had gathered around the ring bowed to their Queen and began to disperse. The moment Feichín was set down on the ground, he barrelled right on and skidded to a halt before the King. Chuckling, the King knelt before the boy and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Dragging your aunt around the Palace again are we?" He asked, grinning.

Feichín nodded and smiled. "Yeth," he announced almost proudly.

Scooping the boy up, the King looked him in the eye. "Well then, my little man, you seem a little tired to me," as he spoke, he winked at both the Queen and Cathán.

Feichín shook his head. "I'm not tired," he protested passionately. "Me and auntie were looking for you."

"Is that so?" The King asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then I must thank you."

The boy's look of surprise made his father and the Queen laugh. "Fank me?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

The King nodded. "Indeed, young sir. You have brought me my Queen." The boy smiled shyly and the Queen was sure her heart melted upon seeing her husband tenderly kiss his forehead. "Now, I must give you to your Papa, for I am sure that he has missed you terribly...have you missed him?"

Immediately, Feichín nodded. "Yeth," he replied. 

Upon taking his son into his arms, Cathán excused himself, Celeste would no doubt be frantic as to where their boy had gotten to.

The moment the weapons master had departed, the King turned to his wife, only to find her already watching him. "You are so good with him," she said, the smile she wore had reached her eyes and set them alight.

"So are you," he replied and stepped closer. "He adores you."

"As he does you," she said and chuckled upon noticing his hesitance to come any closer. "You can come closer," she said, extending a hand.

"Are you certain? I do not wish to ruin your gown that I am no doubt sure was meant for the celebrations?"

She nodded and shrugged. "Your seidr will clean it just as well as water and soap and besides, I have seen you and embraced you when you looked far worse than this. Now come here," she said softly, her fingers curling in a gesture of beckoning.

Taking her hand, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. "You are the most beautiful in all the Nine, what have I done to deserve such good fortune?"

Blushing, she looked down to where her hand rested against the material of his training garments.

"Humble too," he continued softly, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. "Gracious and generous. Loving and tender, yet not afraid to be firm." Pulling slightly away, he retracted one arm and lifted her chin with that hand. "I mean every word, you know I am not one for empty phrases and hollow flattery."

She nodded and smiled. "It is I who is the blessed one," she said in replied and took that hand by her chin and kissed his wrist, as he had done for her so many nights ago. "The Fates gave you back to me. The realm loves you as her King and protector. I, however, love you as my husband, my lover, my truest friend, my confidant and the soon-to-be father of my child."

His eyes widened at her words. "Child?" He repeated, looking down to where her bejeweled gown hid her as yet invisible bump.

"Indeed," she replied softly and took his hand to lay it over her stomach, laying her hand atop his. "Asgard will have an heir and we will have a child."

Not knowing what else to do, he swooped down and stole a kiss, keeping his hand where it was. Her response was immediate. Upon parting, he touched his forehead to hers and met her gaze. "A child," he whispered. "Our child."

"Yes," she said, "I was told just this morning."

"Have you told anyone?"

She shook her head, "only you. But perhaps we ought to announce it at the feast? They all deserve to know."

He smiled softly and nodded. "I quite agree."

~ ~ ~

The mines were dark, save for the lone lamp he carried. His fellow miners had left early that day, having been given a special pardon from the King and Queen to do so in honour of the realm-wide celebrations.

He had received no such pardon, no invitation of any sort. His chains had not been unlocked to release him to his meager dwelling for the night.

Scowling into the darkness, Njal drove his pick into the stone with a vengeance. Two centuries had passed since they had taken the throne, three centuries since they had been married. That boy had received the crown that Njal had always wanted for Thor. Thor who was now destined for no more than a life of misery and hard labour.

Njal knew nothing of how his children fared, did they still live? Were the new monarchs merciful enough to end their suffering?

No. He knew better than to hope for that. He would never forget the look the then Princess wore that day she came to the manor to question him. There had been no mercy in her then, nor at their trial. Not even the boy had so much as looked at them with the kindness all knew he possessed. Loki's eyes had been cold and void of any warmth, of any forgiveness there was no trace.

The news of the war with the frost giants had reached even him, as had the stories of the young King's skill in battle and as a shrewd tactician. The war had lasted for well over five years and the peace was hard won.

Yet, there was, amongst all this, one thing that still made the former General smile. Married they have been, for three centuries and still no child to speak of. The smile he wore soon dropped as the movement pulled on the long healed stitches at his lips.

How was Hela faring? Still in the Palace the last he heard, the lowest of the servants and chained securely to her area of work. Her hair had been cut in the manner required for all the staff of her level. Even so, those of her rank held more freedom than she ever would. Njal could not imagine Thor living in a better place. The Southern oceans were said to be wild and tempestuous at the best of times.

Shaking his head, Njal attempted to focus, but to no avail. The sight of the sewn lips of his two children came to mind and afforded him no peace.

It was said that the royal couple were to give a tour in honour of the celebrations. Rumours were floating about as to where they would go, would they visit the towns and cities closest to the Capital? Or would they truly go through the entire realm?

Any chance at clemency was long since lost. If Odin and his Queen could not be swayed, then it was unlikely that their successors would be any differe-

The sound of the celebrations disrupted his work and thoughts, the unmistakable cracking of fireworks reached him and glowed faintly against the roughly hewn stone walls. How he longed to be there with them, but what had caused such a reaction? The anniversary of the peace was celebrated annually and there had been fireworks only the first few years. The colourful explosions had been in all the colours of the rainbow, they had reminded all who saw them of the Bifrost.

Njal had seen them then. He had felt the relief that peace brought, yet he did not experience the freedom his fellow countrymen had felt that day. Now, condemned to remain in the mines, he saw, if only faintly, that the fireworks consisted of varying shades of the same colour. Green.

The colour of new life. A colour closely followed by a deep purple. A royal purple.

There was new life in the royal family.

~ ~ ~

From where she worked, she heard and saw nothing of the celebrations. The kitchens were in a state of organised chaos as the feast raged on. The chain around her ankle had long since ceased to become a thing of irritation for her, even if the skin around it was red and raw and seemed never to stop bleeding.

The chatter of the kitchen staff blended into one sound for her, one that she tried desperately to drown out as she worked, elbow deep in hot dishwater. She never joined in the chatter, was never invited to. She was spurned by her fellow maids and even the cooks looked down their noses at her. It seemed as though the entire Palace had been told of her supposed crimes.

Hela ground her teeth as she recalled that farce of a trial. Red clouded her vision upon remembrance of the coronation day. Why, the Palace had been practically buzzing with excitement. While those around her had cooed and whispered in awe of their new rulers, Hela had cursed them in the solitude of her mind. Every nasty thought she had, she threw their way. She did not love them as the rest of Asgard did, oh no. She hated them. They had demoted her to this. A state less worthy of existence than a slave.

Of course she had known of the war. Who hadn't? But what angered her the most were the stories that came from it. The stories of the new King's bravery as countless times saw him risk his own life for that of his men. How his mind had saved them all in the end and had driven the frost giants back to their own world.

She hated him. The man who had been made her brother. Her step-brother. Her _little brother._ He was cunning, they said and used ways and means with the enemy that not even his war council had seen before.

Hela did not care for the Queen. She had despised her when she was the crown Princess, it was now no different. They had said that when the army had returned, the Queen herself welcomed them, awaiting them at the capital gates and weeping with relief for all to see.

"Did you hear?" One of the maid closest to her whispered to her friend.

"Hear what?" Her friend asked.

"I heard one of the footmen say that the Queen is pregnant, that she announced it herself before the court this very evening."

Hela did not hear the rest of the conversation. There was to be a _child?_ Grinding her teeth, she set to her work with renewed vigour. But the Fates would not be so kind to her that night. For all around her the conversation of the maids grew to encompass the entirety of the Palace kitchens. Even the cooks asked questions.

Not once did they speak with her. Not once did they turn in her direction.

~ ~ ~

Thor could bare it no longer. No matter how many times he tried, the chain would not loosen or give way. His hands now bore more callouses than he cared to count and the salt stung each and every one of them.

Even now, as the oceans were alight with glimmering firework displays and towns were alive with joyous celebration, he worked. With only the lonely glow of the lantern to keep him company. He could hear them from where he was and it only served to further remind him of how far he had fallen. His supposed brother had done this to him, thrown him down to work like a slave while he was crowned King.

He had not been permitted to join in the war effort. Slaves, he had been told, were not made to fight, only to work.

The King had visited once. Attired simply for his station, he had exuded power with every step and breath he took. His hair had grown and was once more secured by his neck with a golden ribbon.

Unable to speak, Thor had thrown himself at the King's feet, clutching at his boots and pleading with his eyes.

 _"Return to your work and remember your place,"_ the King, Loki, had said, kicking his hands away. _"Grovelling will not aid you now."_

His words haunted him to this day. The detached nature of them, the cold calmness with which he spoke and the emotionless look in his eyes. The overseer had thrashed him that day for his actions. His back had smarted for weeks after, leaving him barely able to move.

Now, as he mined the salt, even in times of celebration, he could not help but think of his own family. His father and sister. How did they fare? His thoughts were interrupted as the salt around him glimmered in shades of faint green and purple. Colours only ever used side-by-side on one occasion. When the royal family was expecting.

Asgard was to have an heir after all and Thor found no joy in his heart at the notion.

~ ~ ~

In the great hall, the feast would no doubt go on until morning. But away from it all, in the chambers of the King and Queen, there was only peace and calm. There was passion and love. There was hope and joy. A joy that the whole realm shared.

Y/N smiled as she remembered the announcement, one that was quickly followed by Loki sweeping in for a kiss that sent the whole chamber into a storm of applause and cheering. The room had melted away for her then and only he had existed. His lips on hers and his arms holding her against him.

Her belly was still flat, with no sign of the life that grew within it. But she knew it was there and it made her smile. Laying her free hand over it, she hummed softly.

Beside her, Loki stirred in his sleep, curling his arm a little tighter around her.

Lifting her hand from where it lay, Y/N snuggled closer and sighed happily. Moonlight spilled into their chamber and turned all it touched to silver.

"Your thoughts keep you from sleep, do they not, my darling?" Loki spoke softly, startling her.

She met his gaze with her own widened one. "Did I wake you?" She asked and smiled when he shook his head.

"Where were you just now?" He asked, drawing back a little so he could see her face properly.

"I was just thinking," she replied, reaching up to curl her fingers in his hair. His hair that was once more the length it had been when they first met. "Thinking of the announcement and how happy everyone seems to be."

The look in his eyes was unbearably tender and she found herself blushing, ducking to hide her face in his shoulder.

"Everyone is happy," he whispered into her hair, ruffling the soft strands. "But no one more so than us, I dare say."

Against him, she shook her head and finally looked up again. "Indeed," she murmured. "No one could be happier than you and I. After so much suffering, there is new hope and chances I once thought lost to me. But let us not dwell on times past."

"Yes," he breathed against the skin of her neck, causing her to shudder lightly against him. The feel of his lips against her skin never failed to elicit the most beautiful sounds from her.

Turning her head just so, she caught his lips with her own and let him switch their positions so she lay beneath him. She found her breath stolen as she beheld him, braced above her. How in the Nine had she become so fortunate to call him her own?

The sight of her there, gazing up at him with more love than he thought possible, Loki found himself lost for words. All he had once thought gone from his reach had now been returned. Her smile was pure starlight and her touch was softer than the evening breeze.

"My King," she whispered, hands reaching up to cup his face, thumbs gently rubbing against his cheeks. "My love. My life."

Her words brought his own back to him. Lowering himself, he allowed his lips to brush lightly against her own. "My Queen," he whispered in reply. His lips trailed and traced adoration across her body and as they moved together, he spoke again. "You are my hope. My heart and soul."

Tears flooded her eyes as she leaned up to kiss him and they fell as the shooting stars that had long since granted both their wishes. Wrapping her arms around his neck and back, she pulled him closer.

Beyond the walls of their chambers, the realm celebrated. The music reached the stars themselves and from among them, Fárbauti smiled and blew a kiss that touched her son as he slept in the embrace of his wife. Her words echoed softly in his dreams and made him smile in his sleep.

_"Peace and happiness be with you, my beautiful boy. Asgard's future is bright with you to guide her. I am so very proud of you. Of you both."_


End file.
